The strange life of a forgotten Primarch
by BrutalAftershock
Summary: After the forgotten Primarch of the 11th Legion of the Adeptus Astartes is summoned to a world of magic and nobility, only his charisma and talent of sorcery well get him by. However, his grim world will be flipped on its head by Squats, Custodians, Primarchs and his favourite Farseer. Will the world of FoZ become grimdark, or will it just get really dumb? Heavy influence from TTS.
1. Chapter 1

The strange life of a forgotten Primach

Prologue: The Primarch

Upon the planetoid sized ship, Craftworld Ulthwe, the dwindling Eldar fought tirelessly against Chaos for millennia since the birth of the Chaos God Slaanesh. When they weren't fighting, they were watching, and what they saw within the minds of their Seers was the coming of someone who would change everything for them. This being was no Eldar, but one of Mankind, a saviour in the body of a child. When the near end of the 29th millennium came, so did the child they had been expecting. A gestation pod came through the Warp, hurled from its place of origin by the will of the Ruinous Powers. Many were cautious, others curious, but all realised the importance of that event.

In a few short years, the child from the pod, named Galavor by his adopted parents, grew to be a towering man, even above the naturally tall Eldar themselves, learning their ways, language and history. But more importantly, control of his immense psychic potential. He soon came to understand the Warp, Webway and Gods of the Eldar pantheon to such an extent that he gave his own ideas and suggestions about them and their respective natures that gave even some Farseers cause for thought. He'd become one of them, and after some time passed they looked past his decidedly un-Eldar appearance.

He walked the path of the Seer when his psychic might seemed adequate, and the seeming incorruptibility of his mind had come from two centuries of training and fending off Daemons of the Warp attempting to infect his psyche. He fought side by side with his surrogate family, slaying Daemons and retaking lost sections of the Craftworld, earning himself recognition and honour, as well as the loyalty of his fellows, while the Eldar had gotten the entirety of Ulthwe back in return.

His greatest act and finest triumph was against a Keeper of Secrets, Zarakynel, one of the most revered and feared of Slaanesh's Greater Daemons. Zarakynel arrived with the horde of the final true Chaos incursion on Ulthwe, claiming she sensed a soul like no other among them, and would claim it for Slaanesh. With her came scores of Daemonettes, slashing and bewitching their way across the battlefield as other Lesser Daemons fired volleys of warp fire at the Eldar and the Primarch.

Several days of bloody fighting passed and the struggling Eldar forces began to fail in their resolve, and the corrupted, malformed horde advanced further while Zarakynel rampaged across the bloodied fields of Ulthwe. While sections of Ulthwe began to fall, Galavor realised the only way to push the Daemons back was to kill, or at the very least, banish their commander, that being Zarakynel.

Channelling his psychic might, Galavor openly challenged the Keeper of Secrets. Arrogantly and with full sadistic intent, Zarakynel agreed to his challenge and the two battled fiercely for hours, violently shaking the earth with their exchanges of blows, and destroying the surroundings with their psychic attacks. With the timely aid of Galavor's adopted father Eldrad Ulthran, a Farseer of Ulthwe far more skilled in foresight and powerful warp abilities than the Primarch, and a young Seer called Caerys, who supported Galavor by bombarding the Greater Daemon with psychic lightning.

With their help, he overcame the Keeper of Secrets, gravely wounding her by destroying her left leg below the knee and skewering her through the throat with one of Zarakynel's claws that had been broken off in the battle. However, it wasn't enough as she retained enough strength to retreat back to the Warp with what remained of her forces. However, Galavor did not come away from that fight unscathed as both his body and mind had suffered wounds from the powerful Daemon.

Another century passed and Ulthwe had seen far less Daemonic incursions and Chaos raids as the solid defences and ruthless offensives of the Eldar and Galavor rendered them all but ineffectual. The Craftworld knew true peace for the first time in centuries, and soon old bits of their culture, music and pass times returned to them as a result. Galavor had earned a spot on the Seer Council, which had been the start of the dark times ahead of him.

Galavor's divinations had warned him of a man in golden armour who commanded a vast fleet. The man made an offer to him, and gave him only one chance to accept it, the ultimatum being he would destroy the Craftworld and slaughter the Eldar he'd come to see as his own. However, there was one who sided with him, another giant like himself and the man in the golden armour. His skin was a deep crimson, and his hair was as bright and red as Warp fire. The red man in his vision appeared to try and reason with the other, the faint word 'father' ran through his mind.

He warned the other Seers, each suggesting a different approach than the last as each interpreted the vision differently. Galavor decided he would confront them alone, as he felt it was his responsibility to confront the other members of his species. While he was rebutted and vehemently offered support from the Eldar, he declined, wanting them as far from him as possible when the time came.

* * *

741.M30

Craftworld Ulthwe

A much older, much wiser Galavor stood waiting at the Calmainoc, the dock that served as the only way in and out of Ulthwe besides Ghreivan's Gate, a Warp portal for crossing large distances very quickly. He was alone as he awaited the arrival of the golden conqueror and his crimson ally. He was dressed in his Wraithbone armour with its standard colours of black, white and red. The lower half of his armour was shrouded by his robe that obscured his Wraithbone plated legs. The fabric of the robe was covered with Eldar runes to enhance his psychic abilities. In his right hand was his Singing Spear which he called Thirst's End. It was imbued with immense psychic energy as its long blade pulsed intensely with purple energy. The spear had been crafted from Zarakynel's claw and Wraithbone, and was a weapon believed to someday be used by Ynnead, the Eldar god of the dead, to finally slay Slaanesh. He wore no helmet and kept it in the crook of his left arm against his side.

He took a deep breath as he watched the human fleet appear outside of the Craftworld, and as just two ships, one gold, one red, broke away from the main unit, he knew who was aboard them. Minutes passed and the two imperial ships docked and with a loud pneumatic hiss, the bay doors of the ships opened. Armoured warriors stormed out of the ships and assumed defensive positions in front of them, some crouched, some standing, but all with weapons trained on Galavor. One group of warriors that came from the red ship wore glossy red armour with blue gems decorating some of them, while the other group were adorned in ornate golden armour with tall helmets that had deep red plumage. The golden ones were much taller and imposing, closer to Galavor in height.

The thudding of footsteps rang out from the ramps of the ships as the golden and crimson leaders emerged, descending proudly down from their ships. Galavor tensed as the two stopped not five metres from him, eyeing him with intent.

''You wanted something from me?'' Galavor asked with steel in his voice. Despite his tone, Galavor was stunned by the sight of the man in gold. He was the spitting image of himself. Bronze skin and long black hair with the same rugged yet refined facial features.

''That isn't the worst greeting I've had from one of my sons, so I'll take it.'' the golden man said with a small chuckle. ''Anyway, I assume you know why I'm here. Now get on my ship and… Hey get back here!''

''Uh, father, it doesn't seem like he's interested.'' the crimson man said.

''Magnus, remember that I'm the Emperor of Mankind. If I can get Angron to stick around, I can get him to as well. Even with that Eldar arrogance I'm sure he's taken on.'' the Emperor replied to his son. As he watched his stubborn son walk away, he noticed he was markedly less bulky than all of his other sons, and so made the assessment that he was a fast and agile fighter as opposed to the death dealing powerhouses that were the other Primarchs. If he coupled that with his psychic power, he could be quite the difficult and strenuous opponent. He also noticed that Galavor moved like the Eldar too. He moved with inhuman grace and precision, with no wasted movements. He found it disconcerting that his one of his Gene-sons was so unlike him and his kin. How he seemed more like the Eldar than Mankind.

Galavor walked away from the two in a blatant display of disinterest. He had no intention of humouring people that wanted to harm his home and people should he not go with them. If anything, he was more open to flaying them with his mind as opposed to anything else.

''Wait, brother!'' Magnus called, making Galavor turn to him with a scowl.

''What is it? Isn't my retreating back not evidence enough that I've no time for you? Leave. And do not return.'' he commanded, his green eyes suddenly flaring with purple light. Magnus quickly approached his brother, gripping him by the shoulder.

''If you would just listen then you'd-'' his had was slapped away and the very tip of Galavor's spear pierced the underneath of his chin, drawing blood like a needle.

''Do not touch me.'' Galavor hissed warningly. ''Take yourself, your toy soldiers and that man back to your ships. I shan't tell you again.'' Magnus stepped back calmly and looked Galavor in the eyes.

''I do not wish to fight, but you must come with us. Father needs you for our Crusade, and your Legion needs their Primarch.'' he then looked back at his father, then at Galavor. ''And I would also appreciate a brother who also has psychic power.'' Magnus said in a hushed tone.

''Brother? I don't even know who you are. And him...'' Galavor narrowed is eyes at the Emperor, who had a rather smug smirk on his face. ''I know he is my father, and I care not for his Crusade or his Legions. My people are here, and this is where I belong.'' he replied adamantly.

The Emperor, not one to take being denied lightly, drew his giant, flaming sword and raised it, the tip pointed at his defiant son. ''If you think you can refuse me, then prove you have the will to deny me in full. Should I win, you will command your Legion under me. And should I lose, we will leave and not return. Fair?'' the Master of Mankind challenged.

He knew he was being goaded, as did Magnus, but he was determined to show that arrogant Emperor just why he should never came to Ulthwe. Galavor swiftly spun around, eyes ablaze with psychic energy and launched the Emperor back into his own ship with a wave of mental force. The Emperor smashed into the interior of his ship with a deafening, metallic crash as steel split and warped with the impact. Magnus took a step back, not wanting to get between two of the galaxy's most powerful Psykers besides himself. However, he had reservations on his father's method of getting Galavor's attention. He knew his father valued his gene-sons, but his ways of callously manipulating some of his sons or situations surrounding them was unsavoury to the red Primarch.

The Emperor emerged from the ship with a grin on his face, the fires of competition alight in his eyes. He rolled his shoulders and looked at his estranged son. He knew his psychic strength was immense as he expected no less of one of his own, but it made him proud to know he was strong enough to fling him around, and was genuinely impressed.

''That was a good hit, son. But that's the last one I'll _let_ you get in. Now come, show me what you can do!'' the Emperor charged with his flaming sword poised to strike while Galavor rushed in more defensively with his spear held across his body in front of him. The weapons clashed, with Galavor immediately going for a riposte, spinning his spear in a defensive arc and swinging down horizontally. The Emperor let the blade glide down the metal of his Power Claw and sparks shot from the contact. He flung his arm out to the side, knocking the spear away and ramming Galavor with his hefty shoulder. The Primarch stumbled back and was forced to sacrifice his balance to evade a fierce jab from the flaming sword and rolled backwards, recovering in a defensive stance.

The Emperor stayed still, feeling psychic energy building in Galavor and immediately jumped and rolled when an explosive bolt of eldritch lightning struck the ground where he stood not a moment before. Just as he regained his bearings, his son was on the offensive and had managed to jab the tip of his spear into one of the minor chinks in his armour, right under his left arm. The blade sank into the underside of his shoulder, suddenly rendering use of his Power Claw very difficult.

Gritting his teeth, the Emperor lifted his Power Claw and seized Galavor in his grip, taking advantage of his thin frame and armour. He swung him to the side with explosive power and let go, but not before amplifying it with a blast of psychic force. The Primarch crashed into a wall and left a large indentation in it as broken pipes ruptured and hissed from the impact.

' _Surrender to him, son.'_ The voice of Eldrad spoke in his mind.

' _And let him threaten Ulthwe? All of you?'_ he replied with confused anger. He could see no good reason why Eldrad would say such a thing.

' _He is testing you Galavor. Fate has decreed that you join him. Your place will always be with us, my son, but he and his empire are why you exist. Even before you came to us, you were destined to go back with him.'_ Eldrad explained.

' _Are you certain of this father?'_ Galavor asked, losing the fire in his chest as he made no effort to get up. He had always trusted Eldrad's word as he had taught him everything he knew, as well as helping him to feel accepted on the Craftworld as a human.

' _Yes. Were it up to me, I would have every warrior on Ulthwe sent to destroy them right now. But it is not my decision this time. You must leave for your home world, to this Terra he speaks of.'_ the ancient Farseer said.

Galavor didn't respond as he looked up at the Emperor who stood towering over him with an infuriatingly smarmy look on his face. He held the tip of his flaming sword to Galavor's throat, the heat threatening to scorch his skin. The Primarch glared defiantly at the Emperor, the seething bitterness of the words to follow already filling his being.

''I yield.'' he ground out in a low growl. He would have revelled the chance to cast the Emperor into the Warp for his audacity, but he would honour Eldrad's word, knowing he knew the wills of fate far better than himself.

''Very well.'' he turned to Magnus who was watching the two very intently. ''Help him up and get him aboard my ship. We leave immediately.'' the Emperor commanded. He turned away from Galavor and strode triumphantly back to his ship, his Custodians following him once he went.

''Wait!'' Galavor called out. The Emperor stopped and turned to regard him. He knew his son had loose ends to tie up and so answered before he could speak. Though it went against his better judgement, the Emperor decided to let his son do it as a show of good will.

''Go and see who you must. It will likely be the last time you see them.'' the Emperor said, however Galavor picked up on a very subtle threat in his tone. He stood on his own, refusing Magnus' offered hand and left without a word. Magnus observed him with his single eye. Clearly his father was willing to risk having a Primarch embittered towards him. He was taking a serious risk, despite his calculations.

When Galavor bade farewell to Eldrad, Caerys and other Eldar, even ones he hadn't seen or spoken to, he left with the Emperor and Magnus for Imperium space. Warp travel in their sense was new to Galavor and incredibly crude in his opinion. The Eldar Webways were much safer and much more reliable as opposed to tavelling through the open Warp. He summed it up as swimming through an ocean filled with predators when you could travel through a lifeless canal.

Weeks passed by in real space but seemed like mere moments for the crew of both ships. The sight that met the latest Primarch awed him. A gleaming planet with an equally luminescent moon floated before him as countless gargantuan ships patrolled the space around the heart of the Imperium of Man.

''This is the cradle of humanity. Beautiful isn't she?'' the Emperor asked. Galavor couldn't deny that the jewel of the Imperium was beautiful as the glow of countless, massive cities lit up the planet most gloriously. However, he noticed that it was somewhat colourless as its pallet mostly consisted of browns, greys and dull golds.

''Did it always look like this?'' Galavor replied curiously. The warrior sighed and his shoulders slumped slightly.

''No. It was once grander than this, but never shall be again. Some vestiges of its natural beauty remain but they are few and far between.'' he said with a melancholy smile. He gazed sadly at the seat of Imperial power, as if remembering its better days.

Hours later they landed at the main bay of the Imperial Palace. They dismounted their ships and entered the massive space filled with maintenance docks, gantries, scaffolds, lifts and work benches. The Emperor beckoned Magnus and Galavor forth with his Custodians following closely behind. Strange men with mechanical limbs, tubes and autonomous tools affixed to their bodies rapidly moved around, fixing, fabricating and surveying. They struck Galavor as extremely odd and wretched, whilst he was viewed as strange due to his attire.

The first real thing showing him the kind of power the Emperor wielded was the sheer amount of people bowing and greeting him with''my lord'' as they passed. They made their way further inside the palace, soon finding themselves within the upper chambers from where the Emperor ruled on high. The throne room was abuzz with chatter as 15 other Primarchs sat waiting for their father and the newest of their brothers.

The Emperor tapped the back of his hand on Galavor's chest before carrying on towards his throne. Galavor stood in the centre of the room under the judging gazes of his new Primarch brothers. He felt Magnus clap him on the shoulder before moving to his own seat. The silence was tense and no one said a word as the judges and the judged eyed each other analytically. Galavor accepted their stares unflinchingly, but he was growing ever more agitated with the silent stand-off. Eventually someone spoke, and it was the Primarch of the Salamanders Astartes Legion, Vulkan who did.

''Greetings, brother. It is nice to finally meet another esteemed son of our Emperor. I am Vulkan of the Salamanders.'' he said in a very friendly manner. The tall, green armoured, coal-black skinned man stood and extended his right hand to Galavor, his fiery red eyes alight with cheer. Unsure of his gesture, Galavor extended his own hand and it was grasped by Vulkan's and shook firmly.

''My name is Galavor, Farseer of Craftworld Ulthwe.'' the Primarch replied with almost immediate regret as many in the room sat forward with very telling frowns.

''You mean to say you're one of them sparkly milk-sops? Look at you, I can see you prancing around with them now you twiggy ponce. Do you even have wolves?'' a hairy man donned in light blue armour taunted. Magnus scowled and glared at his most disliked brother.

''Leave him be Russ.'' the Crimson King growled.

''Never mind him Magnus.'' Galavor said, drawing the others' attention. ''I'm sure he makes a habit of mocking things he doesn't understand.'' he turned his icy gaze to the Wolf King. ''Look at you, what with unshaven, scruffy face. My people spoke of humans as apes, and by looking at you I'd say they're right.''

A Primarch sat beside Magnus snickered. ''Our brother's a snappy one Leman.'' he said with a chuckle. ''I'm Jaghatai Khan of the White Scars.'' he introduced. He had a long, loose moustache with slanted eyes and a long ponytail extending from the top of his mostly bald head. He wore golden armour decorated with furs.

To prevent an argument, the Emperor quickly introduced the other Primarch: Horus, Ferrus Manus, Fulgrim, Rogal Dorn, Roboute Guilliman, Sanguinius, Lion El' Johnson, Perturabo, Mortarion, Lorgar, Konrad Curze, and Angron. He explained that there were two more to be found, and that they were crusading throughout the galaxy to claim it all for Mankind. He explained the Legions, their Primarchs, threw out some insults and then told them all to get out.

The Primarchs parted ways in no particular direction as they all had their own individual things to be doing, people to be seeing or xenos to be killing. The only one who hadn't left and stayed with Galavor was Magnus. The two stood on a balcony overlooking the Imperial Palace, watching Legion parades, people moving around in droves and the overall life of Terra pass by.

''Sorry about Russ, Dorn, Guilliman, Lorgar, Angron-'' he began but was cut off by a dismissive wave.

''All of them hated me, I know. Not only am I not like them but I'm also a powerful Farseer.'' Galavor interjected.

''Well Jaghatai, Horus and Vulkan seemed to like you. Though to be fair Fulgrim only took an interest in you because you look like father. By the way, we call people with any considerable psychic talent Psykers in the Imperium. Just thought I'd tell you so you can fit in a little easier when talking to the others.'' Magnus said in an attempt to be helpful.

''Why are you so keen to be around me anyway?'' Galavor asked. Magnus sighed and placed his hands on the balcony railing.

''You see, before you came along I was the only Psyker among the us unless you count father. I'm also the only one who appreciates arcane knowledge and doesn't fear it. Everyone else does.'' Magnus said.

''I see. I'm willing to bet the others look down on you for that.'' the Farseer said sympathetically. Magnus nodded.

''Like you wouldn't believe. Russ just sees me as a nerd, and the others don't trust Psykers at all. Jaghatai has Psykers in his Legion, and Horus doesn't care who fights as long as it's for the Emperor.''

The two grew silent until a question that had been niggling at Galavor's mind came to the forefront of his thoughts. ''So what was with those three Custodians teasing the other Custodian? I heard what they were saying and I was… made deeply uncomfortable.'' he said with a small shudder. Magnus rolled his single eye.

''Oh. It's probably best you ignore them. They're some of father's companions from before any of us were born. To say they're a little eccentric is… well...'' he trailed off as he couldn't for all of immense intellect and expansive vocabulary find the correct word to describe them.

''You needn't say more. I know what you mean.''

The two grew close over time as they studied the arcane, the warp and the abilities of psychic entities. What made their friendship stronger was their thirst for knowledge and the lengths they would go to get it. Galavor had even taken steps to improve his rocky relationship with the Emperor, which the conqueror was discreetly delighted about.

Years passed and many things had changed for Galavor. He had taken command of the 11th Astartes Legion, the Mind Breakers, a brilliant army of white and purple who operated very closely to the Thousand Sons, the Legion Magnus commanded. They were all powerful Psykers, all trained in the ways of Eldar mental and emotional discipline as to make their minds impenetrable bulwarks against Chaotic influence. Magnus and Galavor made a deal under the supervision of the Emperor to share Prospero, the home of Magnus and his Legion, and its population for recruitment as the two Legions and their Primarchs were so alike.

They spent over a century crusading until an unexpected psychic message came to Galavor, and it was news he couldn't ignore. Zarakynel had materialised again. Taking an Escort Ship and a handful of his closest and most trusted Marines, he broke off from his fleet and set off for the derelict remains of Craftworld Mor-rioh'i. When he arrived, he ordered his men to leave and made them swear to secrecy. He told them to tell the Emperor that he'd been ambushed and killed an Ork Clan and their Warboss. He took a small craft to get to the Craftworld, and that was the last time he was seen by Imperium forces for ten thousand years.

* * *

999\. M41

Craftworld Ulthwe

''What troubles you?'' Farseer Caerys asked, running a gentle hand down the back of the man she spoke to. He turned to her and looked down at her sadly. Galavor looked into her emerald green eyes, eyes even grander than his own. He was worried. For ten thousand years he had watched war engulf the galaxy on a scale unprecedented. He'd felt the Emperor's defeat, Magnus' fall, Sanguinius' anguish. He'd heard the whispers of Primarchs disappearing. Vulkan, Leman Russ, Jaghatai Khan, Corvus Corax, all gone. He hadn't anticipated Horus' betrayal and the transformation of Fulgrim, Perturabo, Angron, Konrad Curze and Motarion into Daemon Princes. He'd felt countless numbers of his Gene-sons die while Prospero burned as he himself was defeated by Zarakynel.

He had returned to Ulthwe after awakening from biological stasis some 700 years later near the mid 32nd millennium. He had reunited with Caerys, who had informed him that Eldrad had disappeared after he had left for the Imperium, which served as another blow to his already shot mind and emotions. Over 8000 years passed and the galaxy was at its worst, but Galavor knew that no matter how bad it was, at least he had Caerys. But it seemed that even that happiness was finite and was doomed to be stripped away.

''You're going to the Kaurava system, aren't you?'' he asked softly, knowing her answer but dreading it all the same. She knew it better than anyone what he felt, but it was her duty. And she was not going to shirk it.

''I must.'' she answered solemnly. ''This is for the good of the galaxy. For the good of the Eldar.'' she grasped his hand tightly. ''For the good of us.''

''I understand.'' he replied as he wrapped his fingers around her hand. ''I will try to stay as linked to you as possible, and help when I can. I just wish I could be of more help. Given the choice, I'd march on the field of battle myself.'' he declared, his eyes burning with psychic energy. He quickly grabbed his face with his hand over his eyes as stabbing pain lanced through his eyes and head.

''Please, do not strain yourself. Since your battle with Zarakynel, your mind has yet to recover.'' she said worriedly. She reached an arm up and stroked his face tenderly. ''I will return, and I know you will be waiting for me. Just be patient.'' she whispered.

''Make no promises Caerys.'' Galavor pleaded. She smiled at him, and it was a rare, loving smile.

''If it pleases you.'' she said as she knew it was foolish to make promises in their galaxy.

He later watched as countless Eldar soldiers entered the Webway, many of them never to return. He and Caerys shared one last glance before she led her team of Seers through the portal. Once they were gone, he sighed and wandered without aim. As days went by, he found himself becoming increasingly dejected as he had no aims to strive for, no friends to confide in, and no enemies to destroy.

Another year of waiting had sent him ever closer to the edge of volatility. Still he had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one with which to speak and nothing to defeat and he was finally at his limit. His compulsion for battle was driving him and tempting him to storm the Eye of Terror just for something to do. That is until a strange anomaly appeared before him in the form of an oval shaped, green portal.

After asking some of the remaining Eldar if they could see it, he was fairly certain they couldn't because of the replies of ''Are you well?'' or ''What are you on about?''. And so he did whatever any self respecting student of the arcane would do. He poked it. He regretted it. He was suddenly being sucked into the portal and fought with all of his formidable might to free himself but to no avail. And just like that, with no rhyme nor reason he was gone.

* * *

999\. M41

?

With the explosion that destroyed the grass of the school yard heralding her familiar's arrival, a pink haired aspiring mage was swallowed up by the laughter of her colleagues and classmates. However the literal storm that came from the pillar of smoke quickly silenced them all. All the pink haired girl could do, was smile.

 **Hey people, BrutalAftershock here. Boy have I wanted to do one of these, and now I can make a start. So, I don't really have much to say regarding this chapter since it's only the start, but I'd like to see what you guys have to say. Review, fav, follow and all that good stuff. Peace.**


	2. A World of Magic and Not Much Wonder

The strange life of a forgotten Primarch

Chapter 1: A world of magic and not much wonder

A living storm in the middle of the school yard was not what anyone had expected from the pink haired wizard. They expected one of two things, an explosion, or a slightly bigger explosion. But what had arrived defied all expectations, while the smoke cleared and the lightning calmed, an immensely tall form adorned in strange, yet regal garb could be seen. The being she summoned looked around in alarm, eyes ablaze as it scanned the field. The pink haired girl recognised the being was a man, with proud and outlandish features. He looked like everything she wanted, divine, beautiful, and powerful.

He held a bewitchingly beautiful weapon, a spear just taller than the man holding it. It had unknown runes and symbols along its shaft and along the blade, while the deadly edge of the blade glowed with the most vibrant shades of purple.

''Who dares summon me like this!?'' Galavor bellowed, startling the young wizards. When no one answered, he yelled again. ''Answer me!''he commanded. From the wizards' perspective, they'd just been shouted at in the most pleasant sounding language they'd ever heard, though still not understood his words. Gulping, the young girl stepped forward and willed herself to appear strong before her Familiar. Galavor narrowed his eyes at her, not sure of her motives. While he was certain she was no threat to him, he was still mistrustful.

She looked up at him with determined pink eyes, yet he could see her fear of him. He felt compelled to kneel down and did so with minor hesitation. Though still towering over her, the girl knew she had his attention.

''Miss. Valliere, you must hurry and complete the summoning ritual.'' a bespectacled, balding man in a blue robe said. Galavor observed the girl tense at the man's words, words he himself didn't understand. The Primarch looked from the girl, to the teacher and then back to the girl. Whatever he'd said had shaken her already fragile confidence. She leaned in and stood on her toes, her face only millimetres from his.

Galavor felt the need to stand, but was shocked to find himself unable to do so. The girl was too close for his comfort, and whatever was keeping him immobile certainly wasn't helping. The girl said unintelligible words to him before planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. She quickly stepped away at the scrunching of the Primarch's face, fearing she'd angered him. However, while Galavor was not at all pleased at the girl's audacious invasion of his personal space, his more prevalent issue was the burning feeling that itched and stung at his skin.

He grunted and placed a hand on the ground to steady himself, fiery pain lashing at the back of his right hand. His eyes became fixed on his armoured hand, seeing a strange set of glowing runes through the Wraithbone plate. He glared furiously and snarled at the girl.

''What...have you… done?'' he ground out through gritted teeth. He forced himself to stand and supported himself on his spear, panting as he did so. His mind was under attack from whatever the girl had done. The runes, it must have been the runes. He fell to one knee once again, feeling the energy sapped from him, and though he struggled with every ounce of strength, he slumped to the ground and his vision went dark.

The sounds of war and the smell of fire and death met Galavor's senses as he awoke. He held a gun of iron and wood in his bloody, cloth-wrapped hands. Around him were men in ragged uniforms, with long coats, breastplates or simple shirts, all tattered from fire, bullets and shrapnel. He was crouched down behind a toppled cart with three other men as other soldiers stormed forth, using buildings and debris for cover. Deafening blasts of cannons and the zipping sound of flying bullets, accompanied by the shouts of men and the laughter of Daemons made him want even more to stay hidden fearfully behind the bullet-ridden cart.

He jolted in fright when a screech rung out from above as a Gryphon and its rider crashed into a bell tower as a large winged beast with red leathery skin tackled them from the air. The Daemon roared as claws sliced its flesh and raised its two mighty axes and slammed them down into the Gryphon, collapsing the tower into dust.

The cobblestone streets ran with blood and were dotted with rubble. Limbs and chunks of man and beast alike littered the streets. Rotten and plagued bodies; dead only hours since falling to the unclean ones, walked the streets attacking the living and spreading their plague. Their shambling forms could only be seen through the smog-filled streets with the fiery wreckage of once-lived-in homes. He looked down at his gun, seeing beads on a bit of string wrapped around the barrel of the gun. It was some kind of charm, specifically a necklace or rosary. There was a small talisman on it, with a detailed and coloured carving of… himself.

His lips moved as he clutched the rosary, and in a voice not his own, muttered a prayer. He felt a hand clasp his shoulder and looked up to see a soldier holding a rosary of his own. The soldier, his head and face hidden by a full faced helmet, nodded to him.

''What we do today, we do for our Emperor. We will purge the Daemons, and burn the Heretics. Now charge! For the Emperor!'' the roars of soldiers were suddenly distant as bright light filled his vision.

' _Come to me.'_

Galavor's eyes shot open and he breathed hard. Pain flared behind his eyes and he held his face. He shook his head and placed his hand back on the floor, deciding to look around. The first thing he noticed was the polished wooden floor he was sat on, and then the wall against his back. He'd clearly been laid down against the wall, which his pride took major issue with, but he knew his indignation could wait.

Taking notice of the room he was in, it was somewhat small, with a bed taking up the majority of the floor space, with a round table and three modest wooden chairs set close to the door. A set of drawers was to the wall opposite the bed. Next to him was a night stand, and before that a pile of hay with another young human lying on it, clearly out cold. The figure wore strange, red, segmented armour with a black undersuit beneath the armoured plates. One of the shoulder pads was much larger than the other, which seemed strange to the Primarch.

To the left of the bed was a decently large window. The only other thing besides the large bed that looked rather pricey was the vanity behind the table and chairs. It had decorative etchings cut into the grooved edges of the wood, brass handled drawers, and a large mirror.

He stood up and stretched, his head not entirely clearing the ceiling as a dull thump accompanied his full body stretch. As he hunched down to begin moving around, he spotted his War Mask lying on the table next to a single lit candle, and Thirst's End leant against the wall by the door. He scowled as he looked at them. The humans of the academy had clearly been touching him and his belongings, relics predating their ancestors ancestors. Relics, if lost, were worth trampling a planet to recover.

The door opened and Galavor's eyes immediately darted to it. The young girl from before was stood still in the door frame, a sour look on her face. Upon seeing him though, her face brightened with no small amount of pride. He tracked her as she moved into the room and closed the door behind her, watching for any sudden movements.

''I'm sure you're rather confused, but I assure you that from now on as my Familiar, you'll be safe here. Do you understand me?'' she asked. While she spoke, she swore she felt some kind of force lightly grazing over her the inside of her head, as if it were surrounding her brain. Several moments passed and the Primarch finally responded.

''Indeed I do. And I have plenty of questions. And just so you know your language is very odd. Male and Female words, each meaning the same thing but having differing contexts? While I'm sure I could find the reason for it with my erudite mind focused on such a novel task, I will have to let that take a back seat for now.'' Galavor said.

The Primarch leant down with narrowed eyes that flickered with power for just a moment. ''Now tell me, just what do you mean by _F_ _amiliar_?'' he hissed quietly. The girl flinched slightly, however she stopped for just a moment and met his gaze with a steely look of her own.

''A servant, a pet, a slave. Or if you cooperate with me, a companion. You choose.'' she replied sternly. Galavor raised an eyebrow in surprise. The girl had a spine, that much was obvious. ''And I, Louise De La Valliere, am your master.'' she declared. The Primarch looked at her flatly, not sure whether to be amused or insulted at the ridiculous notion of the diminutive girl being his master.

''Is that right? Well I'll tell you what, _little girl,_ you'd best show me why I'd ought to obey you then. Unless you can command the Warp, lead legions of humanity's finest, conquer entire worlds on a whim, then you have no business being my master.'' he stated, his scowl deepening with each word.

''I have magic!'' the girl yelled indignantly. Galavor stood up as straight as he could without breaking the ceiling and chuckled.

''Really now? Show me.'' he dared. Louise hesitated, knowing an explosion wouldn't warrant any respect from him. The sound of random babbling in a language neither of them knew interrupted them as the boy on the hay began expressing confusion and alarm.

''Hmm, finally woken up.'' Galavor addressed the boy. He looked up at the Primarch, then at Louise.

''Ah yes. My other Familiar.'' Louise said with a grimace. ''I'm not sure how, but for whatever reason I ended up summoning two of you.'' the boy let out more garbled sounds, waving his arms around as though he were trying to make a point.

''It appears he's trying to tell us something, but whatever dialect he's using isn't one I'm familiar with.'' Galavor surmised. In truth, he knew the boy was speaking another language entirely, and one that his brother Rogal Dorn had mentioned to him in one of their lengthy discussions. Dorn had mentioned a people known as the Japanese, and they were among the many civilisations of Terra's long buried past. Rogal knew about them because of their contributions to human technology right up until the Age of Strife.

''If you can't understand him then do something about it. Or at least shut him up. You're a wizard aren't you?'' Galavor said, slightly taunting the girl. Louise glared at him, annoyed at his smug expression and the boy's ceaseless ranting. She picked up her wand from the table and waved it a little.

''Now what was it...'' Louise mumbled as she looked off to the side in thought. Meanwhile, Galavor was probing the boy's mind, gleaning all the knowledge and memories the boy had. While it was nothing spectacular, what piqued his interest was the boy's language. It was not actual Japanese, but a mix of whatever human dialect was spoken on his world, and that of a race called the Tau.

Searching his memories further, he found the boy was from a planet in the far reaches of the Eastern Fringe of the galaxy, just beyond the galactic border. From all of the star maps he'd spent days looking over, it seemed that the boy's world wasn't registered in Imperial records. Though that may have changed in the 9,300 years he'd spent watching the galaxy fall apart.

Searching deeper still, the Primarch found ugly blue, fish-like faces in the boy's memories. The entities were not very tall, had very advanced technology and had a strange relationship with his planet's human population. They weren't trying to kill each other.

Galavor stopped sifting through the boy's mind and saw Louise pointing her wand at his face, and suddenly his face exploded. The boy fell back with a thud as he hit the wooden floor, his face covered in soot and ash. Galavor's stoic visage cracked and an amused grin spread across his face.

''Not a word unless you want it too.'' the girl growled, flicking her want towards the Primarch. Too amused to be angry or offended by her rudeness, he simply waved a hand casually.

''No, no, of course.'' he replied, discreetly biting his lip to keep his expressions at bay. The boy groaned dazedly before sitting up.

''The hell was that?'' he muttered, surprising both the wizard and the Primarch as they could understand him. He stood and wobbled on his feet, suddenly glaring at Louise. ''I was gonna hold back since you're a girl, but I'm gonna.. do nothing apparently.'' as much as he wanted to rush forward and grab the girl, his legs were pinning in place by an invisible force.

''Aggression won't be needed here, boy. What's your name?'' the Primarch asked as he kept the other Familiar in place with his psychic power.

''My name is Saito Hiraga. I'm from Gue'Vesa'Rio.'' he was met with two thoroughly confused looks. ''One of the Tau worlds?'' he probed. His eyes suddenly shot wide. ''Wait, you're from that Imperium aren't you!''

Louise just shook her head and looked at him like he was stupid. ''What in the name of Birmir are you talking about? Tau? Imperium?'' she looked at Galavor who was looking just as confused, but for other reasons.

''You're not technically wrong, however I align myself with the Eldar rather than the Imperium.'' Galavor informed Saito.

''Farsight said to be wary of both. Eldar can't be trusted, and the Imperium just want to kill everything.'' Saito glowered. A twinge of annoyance struck Galavor.

''We do what we must to save our people. You may think the Eldar as fickle and untrustworthy, but you do not face their crisis. A voracious fiend thirst for their souls and their living numbers dwindle. Anything to save even one life will be done.'' the Primarch hissed.

''Are either of you going to explain what you're talking about?'' Louise interjected with agitated confusion. The two Familiars looked at her, then back at each other.

''Where you summoned us from is a place you'd rather not have anything to do with. Pray your world is free of Chaos' taint, unlike the many world's I've walked upon.'' the Primarch said gravely.

''I don't know what this 'Chaos' is, but Orks are a real problem. Hopefully you don't have any of those.'' Saito said hopefully. He'd fought Orks in the past, and they were something he really hoped he could avoid for the rest of his life, Greater Good permitting.

''We have lots of Orks. We've been fighting them for so long that we've managed to push them back away from civilisation. We don't even let them form Warbands any more. We just hunt them down before they have a chance to organise.'' she explained, however not missing the bewildered looks of both of her Familiars.

''Your people have managed to all but defeat the Greenskins? How?'' Galavor asked, truly confused for the first time in millenia. He'd fought the Orks in long, brutal campaigns across countless worlds during the Great Crusade. Sure, he'd fought them off, but never outright defeated them. They always came back, and in greater numbers. Not particularly easily startled though.

Saito was thinking along similar lines. He'd fought in impromptu raids when the Greenskins attacked his training groups when minor incursions sprung up in the Farsight Enclave. There were countless Orks each time, all with improvised weapons, both of Ork origin and Tau. It would take days of gruelling fighting and horrific casualties on each side before the Orks would either all die or go back to their camps to 'get more Dakka'.

''I'll definitely have to look into how you managed to defeat them. But in the meantime, I believe you have answers for us that we most certainly deserve.'' the Primarch said, suddenly taking on a more serious demeanour. And with a deep breath, Louise began her explanation.

 _Later that night_

''Where'd Saito go?'' Louise asked, suddenly cutting herself off from explaining about the continent of Halkeginia. Galavor followed her gaze to the door which was slightly open, and Saito was missing.

''It would appear he's ran off.'' he said rather unhelpfully, causing Louise to scowl at him.

''Yes I realise that, now go after him!'' she ordered. Seeing it as an excuse to get some exploring done, Galavor complied with her order and immediately rushed out the door so quickly that Louise hadn't even processed his movements. To her, he'd simply vanished.

The Primarch drifted through the doorway leading to the spiral staircase up towards the accommodations and into the hallway, where two students, a blonde boy and a brunette girl stood talking. Well, the blonde boy was flirting, but talking all the same.

''The boy in strange armour, did he pass here?'' Galavor asked, his booming voice startling the two.

''U-uh, y-yes he did, he went that way!'' the boy stuttered, pointing away from them down the hallway.

''Thank you.'' the giant said quickly before giving chase once more.

''Didn't Zero Louise summon him earlier today, Guiche?'' the brunette asked in shock.

''Honestly Katie, I'm surprised I'm not lying or being an obnoxious prick when I say yes.'' Guiche replied shallowly.

'And all I got was a mole dammit!'

Galavor soon found himself in a wide, circular room with a large decorative fountain in the centre. By it sat two other students, some faceless nobody guy and the much more interesting Kirche Von Zerbst. She was was an attractive young woman and she knew it, often taking full advantage of her looks. She had dark skin, red hair and large breasts that often proved to be the lure she used as her main tool.

''Where'd he go?'' Galavor inquired, his sudden, silent appearance startling the two students. Kirche stared at him with wide eyes, realising her new prize was right in front of her.

''The boy in the weird armour? Why, he went that way.'' she pointed behind her with her thumb, ''But I think you should spend a little more time here. Maybe we could get to know each other very-'' a sudden gust of wind and the Primarch's disappearance quickly cut her off. ''Eh?''

Saito ran for all he was worth. His training as a Pathfinder gave him great speed and endurance for covering large amounts of ground very quickly, and being lost was part of a Pathfinder's job, so that was no problem. Now, being chased by a Primarch and a bunch of wand-waving weirdos was. He hoped his choice of using a Fire Warrior shoulder plate paid off since being human meant he didn't suck nearly as bad in melee combat as the average Fire Warrior did, but he had serious doubts.

He looked up and saw two moons, nothing unusual to him as he'd been off world before, and the contrasting colours of the moons, red and blue looked quite nice. However his wonder quickly turned to horror when he was lifted off of the ground. He looked down while he panicked and flailed to see Galavor with a rather annoyed look on his face, followed by an out of breath troop of students.

 _The following day_

Galavor took his independence incredibly seriously, and so with a lot of shouting and threats of 'not feeding him', the Primarch took off on his own to explore, taking his time as he strolled around the Tristain Academy of Magic. Everything he'd seen was as Dorn had described ancient human architecture to be like. Large stone pillars supported the various structures that made up the academy, with heavy stone blocks making up the walls. Polished marble floors made the more grandiose parts of the academy really stand out.

Though that being said, it was nothing compared to the beauty of his Craftworld, or even the Imperial Palace on Terra. Thinking about that made him realise something he'd missed and it hit him like a punch to the gut. He had no way off world. Given the level of technology he'd witnessed so far, the ancient architecture, seeing wooden carts and horses coming and going, and the lack of many things he'd have taken for granted on Ulthwe or Terra, he seriously doubted they'd have anything that could even reach sub-orbit, let alone leave the planet.

While he was deep in thought, he felt something bump lightly against his left leg, followed by a soft thud. He looked down to see a girl in a maid's outfit with black hair. She looked up at him, her blue eyes suddenly widening in mortified horror.

''Forgive me my lord! I didn't see you.'' she apologised quickly. She stood, straightened out her dress and bowed. There were several things he could have said, most of them snarky or just plain rude, but he knew that wouldn't be productive.

''No, no. It's my fault. I find it hard keeping my eyes on the ground.'' Galavor replied casually. ''Are you alright Miss?'' he inquired.

''Oh, my name is Siesta, a servant here at the academy.'' she introduced herself with a curtsey.

''I am Galavor. The unwilling, rather insulted, but begrudgingly accepting Familiar of Louise Valliaire.'' he finished with gritted teeth. Siesta paused in thought.

''I remember hearing about you, as well as one other being summoned, yes?'' she said, her cheery manner of speech slightly bettering the Primarch's mood.

''Indeed. Summoning two at once isn't common I assume?'' he inquired. While he was exercising his free reign, he decided he would try to learn as much as he could while he had the chance.

''Well, I don't know much about magic, but I do know that summoning two creatures, let alone humans, happens pretty much close to never. Maybe once or twice before, I'm not really sure.'' she informed him, placing a finger on her chin as she did.

''Is that right...'' Galavor trailed off. He was about to carry on speaking until he noticed Siesta staring at him in amazement. It was making him rather uncomfortable. ''Is there something on my face?''

''Hm? Oh, no. I was just admiring your clothes. I've never seen anything like them. Also, you're very, very tall. Where are you from?'' she wondered. Galavor resisted the urge to grimace. He didn't really want to divulge much, but he wanted to proudly talk about Ulthwe and how great it was. As much as he wanted to avoid it, he caved. He cursed his pride sometimes.

''I come from a place… probably very far away from here. A place of culture, art, music and discipline. A place where we could shape the universe around us. Are you following me so far?'' Siesta nodded energetically.

''This place, isn't a part of this world. It is beyond the sky, past your moons. It is called a Craftworld, mine being called Ulthwe. You have ships here, right?'' Siesta nodded again. ''Imagine a ship, but instead of being open to the air and floating on water, it glides through the space between worlds. It is as long as one of your moons, and it is a beautiful place.''

''However, that's not the best part. What truly makes a Craftworld, is the people on it. The Eldar.'' Siesta tilted her head curiously.

''What's an Eldar? Are they all like you?'' she questioned, eager to learn more. The Primarch smiled slightly at her eagerness to learn.

''Well, yes and no. They look human, exceedingly so, but there's a beauty to them that goes beyond human. They are tall, like me, have flawless skin, like me, are powerful psyk...er, wizards, like me, have amazing hair, like me, and are ancient, like me.'' he listed off, not aware of how big-headed and arrogant he sounded. Just like any good Eldar.

''You're an ancient wizard!?'' Siesta exclaimed.

''I suppose so. Would you believe I'm over 10,000 years old?'' he asked, his cheeks beginning to ache from holding his grin off.

''But you look super young! In your thirties at the most. Are you messing with me?'' she accused with an adorable huff, her look of anger being nothing more than a cute pout with a frown.

''No, not at all. I have seen things you couldn't imagine. I have also fought in many wars, but I will tell you more about those at a later date, should you wish to hear about them.'' he offered, feeling a little more open to talking with the servant girl.

''Umm-hmm.'' she hummed happily. ''I have duties to attend to anyway. It was nice meeting you Lord Galavor.''

''Just Galavor will be fine.'' he replied, deciding to be at least somewhat humble. He watched her go and once she left his sight, he chuckled and shook his head. His eyes became sad and he looked off into the distance while touching the spirit stone on his chest. While he didn't need it like the Eldar did, he kept one as a memento and a good luck charm.

'Wherever you are Caerys, whoever your foe, I hope you are alright.' he thought wistfully. Had he a way off world, he'd have felt fine. But being without one, he felt homesick. He was already missing the view of the stars through the domes of Ulthwe. He even missed the malevolent glow of the Eye of Terror.

 _Vestri Field_

Saito wasn't sure just how the situation had escalated so much to the point he'd been challenged to a duel. Well, he did, but he merely though it was some well deserved justice. He'd figuratively pissed in Guiche's cereal, translating to him exposing the noble as a hopeless flirt and a player. Furious at being exposed, and the slaps to the face he took from the two girls he was juggling, challenged Saito to a duel for the perceived insult. He was glad, however. He'd got to talk to a rather nice, good looking maid just before the trouble started.

The problem he was having in fighting the noble was the fact his opponent was summoning things, and not just any summony-things, things using melee. He sucked at melee. Not as much as the Tau but still pretty bad. He cursed himself for leaving his helmet and pulse carbine in Louise's room, so all he had were his decorative combat knives. Which he never learned to use. He was with the Tau, what could anyone expect?

One of the bronze Valkyries that Guiche summoned attacked Saito with a spear, which the Human Auxiliary rolled out of the way to avoid. Luckily his strength and reflexes were pretty decent due to the planet he came from. The gravity was stronger, which his people had adapted to and became stocky and hardier than Terran humans, and being an initiate Pathfinder made him swift and agile.

With blinding speed, the Valkyrie charged at Saito after dislodging its spear from the ground and caught him off guard. The spear struck Saito's shoulder plate, which luckily deflected the blow and broke the bronze spear as well. Saito grinned, realising that whatever it was that Guiche summoned were made of soft metal, so turning to melee probably wouldn't be such a bad idea. He unsheathed his largest combat knife and upon doing so, the runes on the back of his left hand began to glow intensely through the armour plating covering it. He suddenly felt like melee wasn't going to be a problem, which was a massive thing considering where he came from.

The Valkyrie made a new weapon for itself and lunged at Saito swiping wildly in wide, powerful arcs. Sparks flew as Saito's body reacted like it had experience a lifetime of swordplay, meeting the blows with his knife and parrying attacks. Guiche summoned two more Valkyries in his frustration and sent the bronze constructs towards the Pathfinder. Saito drew his smaller combat knife and began combatting all three Valkyries, dodging and weaving between their weapons, then carved up the spear of the first.

Disarmed, the construct struck out with a punch which glanced off of Saito's shoulder plate and left it open. Saito darted underneath its outstretched arm and slashed at it. His knives carved through the soft, living bronze of the Valkyrie's body, causing it to fall in half and crumble to dust. He turned his attention to the other two, which once again became three as Guiche summoned another.

The sword-wielding automaton was cut to ribbons as its arms were taken and then its head. Another one followed and Saito kicked it back to dodge the axe of a rather sneaky bronze Valkyrie. Narrowly avoiding the crushing blow of the attack, Saito smashed his fist into the metal skull of the construct and quickly cut the thing down.

'How long is he gonna keep this up. This is really tiring.' Saito thought as he repeatedly stabbed the sword swinging Valkyrie. Deciding he'd had enough, he concluded the only way to win was to ignore the Valkyries and target Guiche directly. And so, pushing through the Valkyries in his way, letting his knives glide through their empty shells, he charged at Guiche and leapt with his knives above his head.

In the crowd Galavor watched carefully as he had come to spectate the duel rather late into the fight. From what he'd gathered from Saito's mind, the Tau were a physically frail species that actively avoided melee combat, opting to use long range weaponry and physically stronger races in their stead. While he could reason out Saito's fighting ability; being naturally stronger, faster and more resilient than the Tau, he gained no knowledge of it when looking through his memories. So in short, what Saito was doing was beyond his natural capabilities.

While he was deep in thought, Louise and the crowd of students were going wild, though for vastly different reasons. Louise was pissed, and the students were thrilled. The Primarch was distracted from his thoughts when the crowd roared as Saito landed on Guiche, kicking him to the ground when his feet struck his shoulders, and his knives were held to his throat. He heard Saito order Guiche to yield even though it was buried beneath the cheering of the crowd.

Adhering to wisdom, Guiche surrendered and Saito emerged the victor, however his victorious high didn't last long as he swayed on his feet and collapsed. Galavor narrowed his eyes, his curiosity piqued once more. He turned away from the crowd and left to meditate.

With the loud mob of students far behind him, and the noise with it, Galavor sat in a large open area and closed his eyes. He emptied his mind and allowed his restrained psychic might to ebb gently around him. Minutes passed and he could not easily access the Warp like he normally could. But a very limited, strained connection was established. Whispers whirled around inside his head, gentle, unclear, feminine whispers. He could detect a warbled quality to the voice, one that seemed wrong.

Very quickly the voices became louder, faster and even more unclear and pain began to fire through the Primarch's brain. The psychic storm of noise suddenly vanished along with the pain, only to be followed by a single, clear instruction, whispered almost sensually throughout his mind.

' _Come to me.'_

Galavor was forced out of his meditative state as the sound of haughty, womanly laughter boomed in his head. His breaths were rapid and desperate for air as whatever had contacted him had seemingly stopped him from breathing for a time. He rubbed his eyes and stood, determined to learn what had assaulted his mind. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that voice, and he seriously doubted it would be the last.

 **Hey, BrutalAftershock here. Sorry about the delay, just a case of no-motivationitis. Anyways, like, review, follow and all that good stuff and I'll seriously try to get another out soon. Peace.**


	3. Fixation On The Past

**Just a little bit of info for the future of the story, it will draw from factions in Warhammer Fantasy/Age of Sigmar, as well as named characters within it. Essentially it's gonna be a little bit of 40k with a lot of FoZ, with a ton of WHF/AoS. Also Chaos fuckery.**

The Strange Life Of A Forgotten Primarch

Chapter 2: Fixation On The Past

In the dank, cold basement of his stately home, an aristocrat pondered and brooded over the whispers in his mind. The venomous, perverse musings in his thoughts were in tandem with the whispers and he nodded and mumbled madly. Dim candle light cast a small glow in the darkness, enough so he could stare into the pages of his tome bound in skin and chains. Its contents were dark in nature, telling of things obscene and utterly evil.

He looked from the tome to the summoning circle on the stone floor. It was complex, full of runes of varying origin. They were ancient Gallian, Germanian, Tristainian, Romalian and one was completely foreign in origin. Not of any nation in Halkeginia. It looked alien. Though they were symbols of the occult they were far darker than any he'd seen before. In the centre of the summoning circle was an eight-pointed star, with a strange symbol in the centre of the star. A circle with a diagonal offshoot with a large crescent facing downward in the centre, and a smaller crescent facing upward at the top. The symbol of Slaanesh.

He then looked from the summoning circle to the corpses stinking up the basement. Mostly half rotted young women were piled up in a corner, all with various wounds resembling lashes from barbed whips and precision surgical tools. Their blood had been used to paint the circle onto the floor, and he'd used more than necessary. His rationale was to use too much than too little.

He smiled and began to mumble more as he listened to the voices. They'd told him of his next sacrifice, a young maid working at the magic academy. She was beautiful, full of life and youth. She was innocent and best of all, uncorrupted. She would be prefect. With her, Slaanesh would be pleased.

The corridors and hallways of Tristain Academy were empty for the most part. The young students were all attending their classes of varying subjects within magic and alchemy. With the silence came peace of mind and Galavor needed the peace of mind. The days following Saito's encounter with Guiche the mole man had been troubling for the Primarch. Louise's demands for help in reviving the near comatose Saito and her declarations of his uselessness as a familiar had been very trying. As much as he'd have liked to, he couldn't do anything to harm her, not without a lack of trying that is. Whatever she'd done to him during his summoning had rendered him unable to muster his power against her. Even his body would not move to smite her. It wasn't like physical restraint, but his body would simply ignore his commands. So the worst he could do was scowl at her and be incredibly flippant. Though that didn't necessarily mean he had to obey her, his own force of will and sheer power allowed him that much. Obeying her order to chase Saito down was as much as he would do, and even then he was doing it for himself rather than for her.

Against her orders he wandered the academy to pass the time and quiet his mind. Without Louise's incessant complaining and shouting he would be able to adjust to his surroundings much better. He didn't carry his spear with him as he highly doubted he'd need it in the academy unless Daemons or a WAAAGH! showed up.

However, that did raise some important questions. Were the Orks as defeated as Louise told him? Was Chaos a threat here? Were there races he had no knowledge of living on the planet? Did anyone know how to play Paradox-Billiards-Vostroyan-Roulette-Fourth Dimensional-Hypercube-Chess-Strip Poker? They were troubling questions indeed. As he pondered the many questions he had bustling inside his head, he noticed a door open at the end of the hallway and someone stepped out. It was Siesta going about her maid duties. She spotted Galavor and greeted him with a smile. She was carrying what appeared to be a pile of folded clothes and she stopped in front of him.

''I see you're busy.'' Galavor said plainly. Siesta nodded and looked towards an open area outside of the building.

''Yup. I'm heading outside to wash these clothes. If you're not busy you can come too if you want. Maybe you can tell me more about yourself.'' she said hopefully. Since she first spoke to him, she'd been eager to learn more about him. It wasn't everyday someone claimed that they were 10,000 years old and lived on a ship in space. Galavor decided that divulging a little more about himself wouldn't hurt. He agreed and followed the girl to a small fountain where she began washing the garments.

''Do you want a tale of one of my many battles, or something more personal to my history?'' he asked. He knelt down on the grass as he watched Siesta go about her task. Even knelt he still towered over all of the students and perhaps the staff too. Siesta took a moment to ponder what she wanted to know and looked at him when she decided.

''Tell me about yourself. Do you have any family?'' it wasn't a question that the Primarch had been anticipating, if he was being honest. He expected questions about his powers, his battles, the Craftworld, his glorious hair or his flawless skin. He'd have been happy to talk about the two latter topics.

''Family is subjective in my case. It's an… unusual matter. Sure you want to hear it?'' he cautioned. She nodded making him sigh. He cleared his throat and proceeded to talk about his long and complicated family history.

''I suppose I should tell you about my father first. My biological father. My father was an extremely powerful man, almost god-like in his influence and power. He sired 20 sons, each sent to different worlds through the machinations of his enemies.'' Siesta listened raptly and waited patiently for him to continue.

''My father was an emperor. He raised and led a vast imperium with the entirety of humanity at his behest. He conquered countless worlds for humanity to ensure our dominion over the stars, but this garnered attention from many enemies. There were other civilisations from far flung worlds that tried to contest us, and resisted us when we conquered them, as any civilisation should.''

''When my brothers and I were separated, most of us were on worlds inhabited and dominated by humans, but I was the sole exception. I landed on an Eldar Craftworld, Ulthwe. I believe I told you about it.'' Siesta nodded in reply and Galavor continued. ''Being from such vastly different places with even more different people and cultures, not all of us got along initially or at all.'' he then had an idea of what to get into some real detail about.

''I shall tell you of the brother I was closest to. My brother, Magnus The Red. You see, Magnus was the first of my brothers that I met, and was the one I had the closest bond with...''

* * *

 _951.M30_

 _Segmentum Solar_

 _Terra_

 _Imperial Palace_

 _Primarch Council Room_

The Primarchs had gathered within the Imperial Palace, and awaited their father. The silence in the room was heavy as the mighty beings sat in their thrones, all with their own machinations and ambitions brewing in their minds. That was to say all but the Second Legion's Primarch. He was one none of the others spoke of, and any who did were met with hostility and scorn The room around them was seemingly made entirely of gold, except their thrones. The only throne that was gold was the Emperor's. Amongst them, the only human among them was the High Painter Duncan, working away diligently at a mural of the Primarchs with the Emperor depicted leading them with his flaming sword aloft and his power claw raised before him with its middle talon held high.

Duncan was explaining everything he was doing to a small gathering of Servitors, explaining to them the finer points of getting a ''Nice fine tip on your brush'' and not using too much water on the paints. The only one really listening was the Servitor stood for hours holding his paints. Fulgrim looked at the mural with envy from his seat next to Galavor. How could a mere human paint better than he, a Primarch? He and his Legion strove for perfection, and art was certainly one of the things they aimed to perfect. As the Primarch of The Emperor's Children thought on it, the more he seethed.

''How long does he plan on making us wait? I swear he does this on purpose.'' Galavor said impatiently. Some of the Primarchs glanced his way while Leman Russ and Rogal Dorn kept their gazes locked on him.

''Father should be with us shortly. I heard his summons was quite urgent. Though I myself am not sure why he is late.'' Dorn answered evenly. When he stopped speaking, he went back to making a rather impressive miniature fortress made from match sticks on the arm of his throne.

''You got something better to be doing?'' Russ questioned suspiciously. He'd made it quite clear he didn't trust Galavor at all. He treated him with disdain and outright suspicion simply based on the fact he was raised on a Craftworld.

''Are you really going down that route again Russ?'' Magnus replied, making the Wolf King turn his fiery gaze to the Crimson King.

''How about you let him speak for himself for once. He's got a tongue, let him use it.'' he looked back at Galavor, who looked at him with a flat expression as he rested his cheek on his fist.

''Suspecting me of foul play again will get us nowhere. I'm beginning to think you fear me Leman.'' the slim Primarch said. His words made the Space Wolves Primarch sneer and bare his long, sharp canines.

''I fear no man, Sorcerer. At first I thought you were merely laughable for being like one of those damned Eldar, but you know too much of both them and us. What if you decide to betray us for the Eldar, eh? I'm sure that's crossed all our minds.'' he said, glancing around at the other Primarchs.

Magnus narrowed his single eye and glared at Russ. ''Paranoia. Both he and I command powers you could not possibly understand. You would be wise to fear him, myself or father. However you should know by now where his loyalties lie. He's defended countless worlds. Intercepted and repelled an Ork fleet headed for Nocturne. He's conquered several planets for father including helping Angron take Nuceria when father refused to.'' Magnus then smirked. ''He's even defended Fenris.'' Russ's face became angry, but he said nothing. ''Did you forget about that?'' A raspy sound came from the other side of the room as the Primarch of the Death Guard spoke.

''Either way, from a Craftworld or not Psykers are not to be trusted. You're all the same no matter where you're from.'' Mortarion said, his thin, grim voice rasped as he breathed the various noxious gasses he needed to live.

''Psykers still have their place within the Crusade. Without them we would not have made as much progress as we have at this time. It is my opinion that Psykers are more valuable than you think.'' Jaghatai voiced once he stopped twitching and making ''vroom, vroom'' sounds.

''We mustn't fight brothers.'' Vulkan chimed in. '' I know we all have different experiences with Psykers, but we must trust them. If not all then our own flesh and blood at least.'' he said in an attempt to calm his fellow Primarchs.

''You are weak brothers~'' Ferrus of the Iron Hands Legion drawled. ''Not you Fulgrim. You're perfect.'' he added seeing the hurt look of his favoured brother.

''It pains me so to see my brothers 18 in such conflict. The unity which should bind us is strained like the sanity of Curze and the ego of Fulgrim. Such familial hatred hurts me like a murder of crows pecking at a single large bread crumb lying forgotten and unloved in the cold, uncaring streets of a Hive World capital.'' Corvus said, bemoaning the bickering of his brothers.

''How is that in anyway helpful Corvus?'' Galavor questioned in utter confusion, now fighting off Fulgrim's attempts at removing the breastplate of his power armour. ''By Khaine I will smack you Fulgrim!''

''Let me taste your perfection!'' the Emperor's Children Primarch begged.

''Now, now, brothers. Let us not bicker. Corvus and Vulkan are right. Fighting will get us nowhere and certainly not help us with clearing up the issues some of us have with Psykers.'' Roboute Guilliman of the Ultramarines spoke up, getting the attention of his brothers.

''I for one, in my admittedly limited knowledge of Psykers, though with experience with them, can say that I find Psykers to be strategically viable in many situations. Though I would be lying if I said that incidents restricted only to Psykers were not a cause for concern.'' the refined and calm voice of Angron followed Roboute's words. It disturbed many how calm and composed the World Eaters Primarch was outside of combat. Hell, even his name implied he was always angry, all the time.

''I cannot say I am very enthused with Psykers running unchecked through the Imperium. They bring troubling complications. The Flesh Change amongst The Thousand Sons and Mind Breakers has cost us greatly in the past.'' Rogal said, his unchanging baritone voice darkening as he spoke. Magnus growled in indignation. Galavor stopped fighting off Fulgrim's attempts to sniff his hair and looked towards Magnus.

''I've cured the Flesh Change by way of the very same powers you condemn. The psychic abilities of people like Galavor and I are the reasons for a lot of the Imperium's victories!'' he bellowed. The Primarchs ceased their heated debate when they heard the great golden door to the council room creaking open as the Emperor and four of his Custodians entered the room.

''Behold our most glorious overlord. Bathe in his most mighty, masculine aura.'' one of the Custodes said loudly.

''I can feel my buttocks trembling~'' another added. The Emperor looked as if he was actively trying to ignore his Custodians. It was practically written on his face that he'd been putting up with them for quite some time.

''Be gone Custodians. I will summon you when I… well not need you but… in fact I don't even necessarily want you around...'' The Emperor said dismissively.

''Fear not your highness, we will be around. Very close. You may not even know where. Perhaps even-'' the lecherous Custodian and his comrades were Warp-punched out of the room, leaving only one of them left in the room. The quiet Custodian glanced around nervously at the Emperor and his sons.

''Umm… my lord?'' he asked cautiously as he found their expressions impossible to read.

''You haven't bothered me today. You are free to leave by walking.'' The Emperor said with less annoyance in his voice. The golden super warrior left after his brethren and closed the door behind him, allowing the meeting of demigods to begin.

The Emperor took his seat and cleared his throat. The Primarchs waited patiently for him to speak. And they waited, and waited, and waited. They exchanged looks between each other discreetly.

''Right, so, before we begin...'' the Emperor looked up and saw Conrad Curze of the Night Lords Legion hanging upside down from the highest point of the arched ceiling above the Emperor's throne. ''Get down from there Conrad. You're not a bat so stop acting like one.''

The gaunt Primarch hissed and covered his eyes. ''I AM THE NIGHT!'' he bellowed. However he soon complied when Perturabo of the Iron Warriors Legion began flicking bolts and screws at him, giggling as he did so.

* * *

Siesta had long since stopped washing the clothes and listened intently to Galavor's tale. She had some many questions. She couldn't help but feel incredibly privileged. An incredibly powerful being with over 10,000 years of life and experience was taking the time to humour her childish curiosity. She didn't know what she'd done to be in the company of such a being.

''So you and Magnus weren't trusted by a few of your brothers. Why?'' she asked, still not sure why they were mistrusted by their brothers of all people. She was taught that family trusted one another and stuck together. Were they more different from each other than she thought, that not even ties of blood would bring them together?

Galavor closed his eyes and shrugged, not out of ignorance of his brothers' suspicion, but out of lack of an actual answer that he could articulate. He and Magnus had not fit in with their brothers since the beginning, and no matter what they did to improve their standing, they couldn't ever fully gain the trust of even their more open minded brothers.

''Our powers were misunderstood, and as the Great Crusade went on, stranger beings with the same powers starting appearing. It was only a matter of time before they started thinking we were more similar to the enemy than to themselves.''he explained, the bitterness he felt towards his brothers returned for just a moment before he forced it aside. He knew it was human nature to fear and hate what they didn't understand, and he would do the same in their position before his thirst for knowledge got the best of him.

''That's terrible. Why would they think that?'' Siesta asked, sympathy etched on her face. The picture painted in her mind was a world filled with more shades of grey than her own. The distinction between commoner and Noble was quite clear, with one having all and the other nothing. One lacked power, wealth and influence, the other didn't. It was as simple as that. But even someone like him was conflated with the enemies of his empire by his own brothers.

''Because people like me were the reason the worlds pre-dating my father's rule fell to ruin. Combine that with the fact I'd spent centuries amongst one of the most loathed enemies of mankind, wore their armour, carried their weapons and used their powers, and you can see why I wasn't well received.'' he replied.

Siesta turned fully towards him and wanted to place a reassuring hand on his arm, but thought it best not to. Though she was sure they were relatively friendly now, something about him still deterred her from invading his personal space. She simply gave him a smile. Galavor was unused to seeing such an expression on a person. The Imperium was a grim place of sullen and stone-faced warriors clawing for dominance over the galaxy. Ulthwe was the same, only survival was the focus for the ancient race. Humans of the Imperium lacked humanity, he could see that when he looked at Siesta, but it wasn't just her. The students of the academy looked… happy. It had only become apparent to him then.

''I'm sure you and Magnus were just doing what you thought was right. Most people fear the Nobles because of what they can do, but most of them are good and look out for the people. Most of them use their power defend their countries and cities. Sure we don't understand their magic, and they can be scary with the amount of destruction that they can cause, but we trust them because we need them. I'm sure more people in your empire thought the same about you and Magnus.'' she said hopefully.

Galavor smiled and chuckled, amused by her naivete, but grateful for her positive outlook. The maid looked at him confused and he regarded her.

''There are not many who I have known with such a bright view of the world. Keep a hold of that view, and you will not go wanting.'' he advised sagely. However, he couldn't bring himself to believe such a thing. After all, hope is the first step on the road to disappointment. War would find this place, as war found everywhere else. It was the natural way of things when humans or any sentient race was involved. In a galaxy of hopelessness, Siesta's own hope was a glimmer he rarely saw.

''I will. I'd like to ask you one last thing before I go, if you wouldn't mind.'' she said, whether consciously or unconsciously giving him her best sad puppy eyes. Though his fortitude outstretched such a tactic, he had no qualms in answering her question. He had begun to find himself enjoying talking about his past. It could have been a case of egotism, or it could have been the feeling of simply being able to talk to someone without having to wonder if the next time he saw them, they'd be an eviscerated mess at the feet of a Daemon.

''And what would that be?''

''Who is Fulgrim?

' _Fulgrim, stop! This is highly inappropriate!'_

' _ **Just stay still brother, I don't want you to ruin your perfect hair before I can take some strands.'**_

' _No go away!'_

' _ **Shhhh, just let it happen. I bet your buttocks make the most delectable bongos.'**_

' _Get your hands away from my belt!'_

' _ **Mehehehehehehehe~'**_

' _*Highly uncomfortable Eldar-High-Gothic shrieking*'_

''Are you okay? Galavor? Hello?'' Siesta became rather worried with the Primarch's blank, thousand-yard stare and began waving a hand in front of his face.

* * *

Saito stared intensely at the map he had procured from the academy library. It was a map of the world that was uniquely drawn and penned by an unknown cartographer. The two main continents were split by a massive ocean, with two polar regions and a circular island in the north-east of the map, bordering the western continent. However, he could neither read the runic lettering of the map or even determine where he was on the map.

He heard the shuffling of feet from the other side of the bookshelf behind him, along with the soft tapping of wood on the stone floor. He walked around, taking the rolled up map with him and saw a balding man in a blue robe, round glasses, with a wooden staff in his hand. Saito vaguely recognised him as the teacher who was present at Louise's summoning. The man saw the Gue'vesa from the corner of his eye. He closed whatever tome he was reading and looked at Saito with a welcoming smile.

''Ah, one of Louise's Familiars. Is there something I can help you with?'' he asked before correcting himself. ''My apologies, I am , a teacher at this academy. Might I ask your name?''

Saito regarded him for a moment and responded. ''I am Saito Hiraga, a Pathfinder of the Farsight Enclave.'' he saw the look on Colbert's face and decided it would be best to get to the point. ''I need your help.'' he unrolled the map and placed it on a small table in the aisle.

Colbert looked over Saito's shoulder and at the map. He immediately understood Saito's issue.

''I see, you want to understand the map.'' Saito nodded. ''Well, I suppose I should start with Halkeginia.'' he placed a finger on the continent just above the circular island. ''That's our continent. It is split into Tristain, where we are, Germania to the east, Gallia to the south, and Romalia south of Gallia.''

Saito nodded and listened intently as Colbert pointed to each country. ''What's this small island to the north-west of Tristain?''

''That is New Albion. It is a seat of power unto its own, but it has close ties to Tristain through the royal family. We rely on them for their weapons trade and craftsmen, as well as a lot of commodities we have. But mostly we get most of our religious leaders and military leaders from there. In return we provide mages and magical materials. '' Colbert explained.

''To the south of Halkeginia is Ulthuan, the kingdoms of the Elves, and above us is the Chaos Wastes.'' Colbert's tone became slightly heavy and his eyes narrowed.

''Chaos? I heard Galavor mention Chaos when we first got here. He said to Louise that she should hope Chaos doesn't have a hold here.'' Saito said curiously. Colbert didn't speak for several moments. He calmed himself from whatever emotions he was feeling and spoke.

''Chaos is an all consuming force that threatens us all.'' he began in a hushed tone. ''It corrupts and twists all it touches. There are four major Chaos gods; Khorne, the blood god, Nurgle, the god of decay, Tzeentch, the god of change, and Slaanesh, the god of excess in all things.''

Saito narrowed his eyes in confusion. He'd never seen nor heard of these Chaos gods, nor had he seen Farsight or any of the commanders under him worry about them. The most chaotic things he'd seen were the Orks and the Bombperium Of Man. Both were chaotic as one amassed hordes to slaughter and burn their way across a planet, while one simply blew the planet up.

''They spawn twisted creatures, Daemons, and maniacal cultist followers. I've seen the things Chaos can do. Khorne's warriors slaughter and butcher their way across the north. Nurgle's plagues spread across towns and cities, rotting their inhabitants alive. Tzeentch's spells mutate men into unspeakable horrors. Slaanesh drives men mad with her Daemonettes and turning them into debased, perverted creatures.'' he shuddered and looked Saito square in the eye.

''Chaos is not something you want to encounter if you can help it. Chaos Warbands are the worst anyone can find, but also beware of Beastmen. They too follow Chaos, but I'm warning you of them because they inhabit Halkeginia's countrysides and forests.'' he said gravely.

''Do the students know anything about Chaos?'' Saito wondered, also adopting a hushed tone. Colbert shook his head and gave Saito a stern look.

''No, and they are to know nothing about it until they are old enough and experienced enough to know the true extent of Chaos' danger.'' his face softened ''Listen, don't tell Louise about Chaos, not yet anyway.'' he cleared his throat, noting the bewildered look on Saito's face. ''Anyway, ah, the rest of the map.''

* * *

It was late in the evening, and the twin moons Mannslieb and Morrsileb shone brightly. The latter moon was a crescent and tiny compared to the former. Black clouds contrasted sharply with the dimming light of the setting sun. Galavor had spent the better part of his day talking with Siesta, deigning to aid her in her duties as they conversed. He had recovered from his episode, having explained who Fulgrim was and his old antics, including their scarring effects upon the Primarch. Siesta quickly understood Galavor's reaction the question of his bizarre brother.

The Primarch had parted ways with Siesta some time ago, just as they'd met with Saito. She'd asked many questions about the smaller Familiar, and was quite interested in him if her stray thoughts were any indication. He let the two go and returned to Louise's room where his war mask and Thirst's End waited undisturbed.

Upon entering the room, he found Louise leant against the windowsill, staring absently into the distance at the moons. She turned when she heard the door close. She'd thought about how she could establish some common ground with the Primarch. She'd made a bad start with him, and he'd made that quite clear.

''Something on your mind?'' Galavor asked. With her thoughts disrupted, she huffed and looked away from his direction. He kept his cool gaze on her for a few moments, then looked at his war mask on the table. He took it in his hands and looked into its lenses. Looking from it to Louise, a thought struck him.

''Are you dissatisfied?'' he inquired. Louise faced him once more, a curious look upon her face. She found his question to be an odd one, yet strangely she felt compelled to answer.

''There's no sense in lying. I am dissatisfied.'' she stated bluntly.

''I suspect there are a few reasons.'' Galavor said, subtly pushing a response.

Louise's words were slow to come, but she eventually vocalised her grievances. ''In short, I'm dissatisfied with my Familiars.'' Galavor had been wandering what his summoner's thoughts on her thralls were, and now he got to explore her thoughts on both he and Saito.

''Oh?'' he replied, both curious and amused.

''Neither of you should even be here. Humans aren't meant to be Familiars, and even then, neither of you have any intention of obeying me. What good is a disobedient Familiar?'' Louise ranted angrily, having turned her body fully towards the Primarch.

''Even without having two Familiars I can't control, I can't even grasp the basics of magic. I go to all my lessons, always take notes, but I still can't do it. I don't even know what-'' she stopped herself suddenly and looked Galavor in the eye.

''What am I doing. I don't do this. I don't just tell people what's wrong.'' her gaze became sharp and cold. ''You're doing this. I don't know how but it's you.'' she accused with a harsh tone. Galavor unfolded his hands from his lap and stood up off of the wall. She was perceptive, he had to hand it to her. Not many could tell if they were being subject to mental suggestion. It took a great degree of self awareness to know if you were going against your natural routines and lowering your defences, especially in the presence of an almost total stranger.

''Hmm, indeed. I'm impressed you noticed.'' he said with look of intrigue.

''Huh?'' Louise was becoming increasingly confused.

''Louise, you may have no talent for magic, have worse luck than a starving Genestealer on a Tomb World, and have two familiars who you couldn't possibly begin to control, but what you do have is something no one else does.'' Galavor said, almost reassuringly.

''And what's that?'' she said.

''A Primarch who is willing to humour you.'' before Louise could speak, he continued ''But that by no means gives you any degree of control over me. I will listen, and if you wish, I shall advise you.''

Louise kept her eyes firmly locked with his, judging his words silently. After some moments, she nodded and became unsure of what she thought of Galavor at that moment. Since he'd arrived via her summon, the feeling she got from him was that he was something completely different to any creature or person she'd ever seen. His presence, demeanour and even the way he moved spoke of something beyond human.

He moved with unnatural fluidity, as if he were made of water or air. Completely free with no impediment or restraint. Even his slowest, most delicate movements were almost blurs to follow with one's eyes. His eyes showed age far exceeding his appearance, and experience that far outstripped any living person in the world, perhaps only matched by some of the older High Elves.

His presence was like that of an odd mix between a General and a world-weary Sage. With his commanding, charismatic aura and his intelligently measured and calculated speech, she could easily see him leading armies to battle and ruling absolutely. From the moment she'd formed the pact with him, she'd felt just a fraction of the power he possessed and even that felt like a teasing amount. She'd heard stories of the exploits of Balthasar Gelt, a powerful Imperial Wizard, who supposedly had a frightful amount of power at his disposal, and she wondered if even he could match the Primarch.

As these thoughts crossed her mind, she scoffed at the notion of controlling such a vessel of power. However, she also had a regular human familiar too, so perhaps he would be a better recipient of her authority. Saito didn't possess the absoluteness of Galavor, nor his will or power. Though, she could feel there was something about Saito that made up for those things. Though whatever these redeeming qualities were, she wasn't quite sure. Come to think of it, she hadn't even spent much time with Saito, though she saw no importance in that endeavour at the time.

''Well then, if you are willing to 'humour' me, then I am willing to learn a bit about you. It is common courtesy for a wizard and their familiar to understand each other, after all.'' she said. ''Would you care to tell me about yourself?''

Galavor mentally chuckled, finding her sudden turn humorous. ''Very well, for now, a little about what a Primarch is should suffice.''

* * *

For over a year the storm of fire and blood that had engulfed the planets of the Kaurava system had failed to abate. The forces of the Imperium, the numerous, doom driven Imperial Guard. The feared and mighty Adeptus Astartes of the Blood Ravens Chapter. The zealous and puritanical Adepta Sororitas of the Adeptus Ministorum. They battled and slaughtered their way across the Kaurava system, incurring terrible losses. On each other.

The Necrons awakened beneath the red deserts of Kaurava III, silently marching as their mechanical legions slew their foes with green bursts of gauss fire. Their reasons for rising, for marching, for killing were unknown to anyone of flesh, but the silent lord of Kaurava III knew, and he was nigh unstoppable. Their advance was halted when the ancient, sand-blasted Webway portals sparked to life.

The Eldar of Craftworld Ulthwe had arrived to strike at the source of the conflict, in an attempt to sway the course of fate, as was the role of Ulthwe. Caerys, the Farseer commander of Ulthwe's forces led the Eldar to battle. She had battled across the system against the Imperium and the Necrons, even the Dark Eldar, though their skirmishes were fleeting. Even the Orks, however unsurprising, had shown up. She found it strange that so many groups had come to the Kaurava system. Seriously, this system was worthless, anything it might have had to offer was long gone. She ran a hand down her face and sighed.

''Farseer.'' Caerys did not need to turn to know it was 1st Captain Baphomus Raan of the ancient remnants of the Mind Breakers Legion. Since the day Galavor disappeared from the Imperium, the Mind Breakers went to great lengths to search for him, against their Primarch's orders. Baphomus, the then-acting commander of the Legion, reached out to the Eldar of Craftworld Ulthwe as they had peaceful relations with them due to Galavor's relation to them.

Before the majority of the Mind Breakers were merged with the Thousand Sons Legion, Baphomus took the 1st and 2nd Chapters, including the Ancient Contemptor Dreadnoughts, Beelzus Marazanthras, and Astraephon The First One. He took the best equipment he could from the Mind Breakers armoury and reliquary, arming Beelzus with a Volkite Culverin and Chain Fist, which had a built in twin-linked Bolter. Astraephon possessed a Kheres pattern Assault Cannon, and a Havok Missile Launcher. All Astartes under his command were issued with mark IV Achean pattern Power Armour, with the veterans of both of the Chapter's 1st companies equipped with Tartaros pattern Terminator armour.

With his personal, trusted army of battle-brothers, he went to Ulthwe to seek audience with Eldrad and any other Eldar who could help him find his Primarch, going in alone to see them. Since then, the remnants of the Mind Breakers have worked with the Eldar of Ulthwe, assisting in battles across the galaxy against Daemons, Xenos, and their fellow Astartes.

''I can no longer feel my Primarch's presence as strongly. Did he go somewhere?'' Baphomus asked. Caerys tilted her head, not quite understanding him.

''No, not to my knowledge. I last saw him when I departed for this system. He told me he would await my return.'' she replied. The ancient Astartes furrowed his brow beneath his helmet. After finding Galavor had returned to Ulthwe having escaped Mor-rioh'i, the Mind Breakers had insisted their Primarch remain on the Craftworld to recover, with the support of Caerys, the Seer Council, and Taldeer when she was still there. She was especially forceful.

''Galavor would not just disappear again, especially not with you away at war. But if he did, where would he go? There's really nowhere he _can_ go.'' he said with great puzzlement. He felt disappointed in himself. He was Galavor's 1st Captain for many, many years through the Great Crusade, fought at his side through countless battles, and earned his place as his Terran predecessor's replacement. So why couldn't he predict his Primarch's movements? Why didn't he know him well enough to do so? He and Galavor had been close as primogenitor and progeny, and as commander and soldier. They were actually friends.

''It is very worrying. In his weakened state, I fear for him.'' She turned from looking over the base she established to look at Baphomus. ''However, there is yet hope. Since we can still feel his psychic presence, we have a chance at finding him.'' she watched as the last of her soldiers passed through the Webway gate ''Our mission here is complete. Captain, come back to Ulthwe and follow me to the Seer Council. There, perhaps you can aid us in more accurately determining Galavor's location.''

Psychic commune with the Eldar of Ulthwe was something not uncommon among the remaining Mind Breakers, even during the Great Crusade. The majority of them who were inducted into the Thousand Sons just before the Horus Heresy remained in commune with them at their discretion. They exchanged tactical information, learned better discipline from them, especially when Galavor was still present, and even established somewhat of a head quarters on the Craftworld.

When tensions between Humanity and the Eldar rose to new heights thanks to the actions of Fulgrim before the onset of the Horus Heresy, virus bombing several, irreplaceable Maiden Worlds, Baphomus and his own 1st Captain Daramiah Ivortas met with Eldrad who discussed the liaison with the Primarch of the 3rd Legion. The news of Fulgrim's disbelief was not at all surprising, but to hear that he launched an unprovoked attack upon the Eldar at a perceived accusation of Horus' corruption was disturbing.

With the news that Fulgrim was fully aligned with Horus, the Mind Breakers withdrew completely from the Imperium, moving their remaining fleet to merge with the Craftworld fleet to create their own stronghold, and strengthen the Craftworld's already considerable defences. They chose to seclude themselves, refusing to communicate with any of the Primarchs and the Emperor. Instead, they dedicated themselves to tempering their minds to make themselves impervious to Chaotic corruption, and strengthen their psychic abilities. Being so close to the Eye Of Terror made such training necessary.

Over the 10,000 years they spent on Ulthwe, the Astartes discovered that they were biologically immortal, like the Eldar. Age couldn't claim them. This came as a surprise to them as it was unheard of for an Astartes to live long enough to die of natural causes, and in their case and perhaps the case for all Astartes, age wasn't a factor for them.

''You really think we can find him? He's gone out of his way to stay hidden before.'' Baphomus said doubtingly. Caerys acknowledged his doubts, as she shared them, but she would not allow doubt to sway her efforts.

''We will find him, Baphomus. And we will drag him back to Ulthwe if we have to.''

* * *

''What do you mean 'she's missing'?'' Galavor questioned, eyeing Saito critically. He'd come to Galavor in a frantic state, talking at a mile a minute about how ''she'' went missing. It had taken the Primarch a couple of minutes to calm the young Gue'vesa down so he could get any degree of sense out of him.

''Siesta, she's gone. I went to the kitchens this morning and Marteau said she'd left with some noble. To become a mistress or something. I think that's what he said anyway.'' Saito explained. So she'd left the academy. Galavor was certainly surprised. He was fairly certain she enjoyed working here, and she made no mention of leaving. His instincts were telling him something was very wrong.

''Take me to this Marteau fellow. Maybe I can get more specific details.'' Saito took Galavor to the kitchens, though was concerned about the small issue of a 10 foot tall man fitting though a seven foot tall doorway. However, when he looked at the Primarch to raise the Issue, he was looking at a man around 6'5, looking himself over.

''Hmm, not bad.'' the Primarch said to himself. ''Right, let's go.'' Saito, not even bothering to try and process what Galavor had just done, lead them into the kitchens, where only a few of the cooks and head chef Marteau were, busily preparing the kitchens for the next day. The stout but broad chef noticed the two and greeted Saito with a wide smile.

''Our sword returns already? How can I help you Saito?'' Marteau asked cheerily. Saito didn't get a chance to reply as Galavor stepped past him, looming over the chef with eyes pulsing lightly with psychic light. He kept his eyes focused on the chef's for a few moments. Marteau's eyes became glassy, but focused.

''Where did Siesta say she was going _specifically_?'' Galavor inquired, psychically influencing the chef to tell the truth.

''She told us she was going to Serve Count Mott, a local Lord. Apparently he personally requested that she come to work at his estate. Other than that, I don't really know anything about it.'' he said compliantly. Galavor frowned as his sense of danger began gnawing at him again.

''Who is Count Mott? And where is his estate?'' the Primarch asked sternly. He applied a little more pressure to Marteau's mind to extract a little more information. He would comb his mind for himself, but he found that the chef had a surprisingly strong mind. If he did try to comb his mind for information, he would most likely notice. Psychic happenings were weird like that.

''He's a messenger for the Royal Court. Answers to the Queen directly. His estate is about an hour south of here. I've been there personally, looking for work and was granted an audience, and honestly, I sensed evil there.'' he said, his eyes gaining some sharpness. ''I should have interrogated him and torn his house apart to find the source of that malignant presence, but I was in no position to. I did Sigmar a disservice that day.'' Marteau's tone was suddenly like that of an Astartes. It was strong, yet solemn in his disappointment in himself.

''If allowed, I would take up my hammer and armour once more and root it out myself.'' the chef, normally cheerful and boisterous, was now seemingly filled with zealous anger. Galavor made a point of inquiring about this Sigmar later.

''What evil?'' the Primarch felt like he already knew the answer, but he really hoped he was wrong.

''Chaos. I sensed Chaos' corruption. The man is conspiring with Daemons.'' the incensed chef hissed. The Primarch frown grew heavier as the man spoke. It seemed wanting Chaos to not exist here was too much to ask. And now Siesta was in the presence of Chaos. He turned to Saito, who looked at him with a worried frown.

''I'm leaving immediately. Go to Louise and tell her nothing of what I'm doing.'' Galavor ordered.

''But-''

''But nothing! You have never encountered Chaos if what you said is true. You are not ready.'' he strode past Saito. He got to the doorway and spoke. ''Chef, you would join me in this?'' he had no basis on which to place his trust in the chef, but from what he felt when looking at his mind, the man had seen and fought Chaos viciously in his past. Marteau's face brightened for a moment, but he quickly became dour.

''No. Not now. Maybe when I'm at peace with myself, I will take the fight to Chaos once more.'' he said solemnly. Galavor grunted and left the kitchens to undertake his task. He backtracked and put his head around the door. ''Also, we will discuss that weapon of yours.'' he pointed to the sheathed sword on Saito's back. ''Don't think I couldn't sense the psychic essence within it.'' and again, he left.

* * *

Inside of the Golden Palace on Terra, the stirrings of the Warp had reached the Emperor Of Mankind. He sat silent, spooky, and skeletal upon the Golden Throne, surrounded by golden walls, golden floors, golden things, and generally a lot of gold. His fractured consciousness drifted across the Warp, and it had found some new, juicy bits of information. Someone had found one of his sons. He didn't know who, or how, but someone had uncovered and was actively interacting with one of his sons.

 **[SNIFF.]**

This sound caught the attention of the captured Magnus The Red, returned to the Emperor's palace by way of being put in a box by the Ultrasmurfs. ''What?'' Magnus asked. The Emperor didn't respond and the throne room was silent once again. Magnus frowned slightly and continued reading through one of his many archaic tomes.

 **[SNIFF.]**

''Do you have a cold or something?'' the Cyclops questioned irritably.

 **[CAN'T YOU SEE I'M EMOTIONAL ABOUT SOMETHING YOU TUB OF RED BEAN PASTE?]** the Emperor replied, the robotic tone of his text-to-speech device unable to put the desired sting into his words.

''No? What could you possibly be getting emotional about?'' Magnus inquired, opting to ignore his father's insult.

 **[ONE OF YOUR BROTHERS HAS BEEN FOUND. ONE THAT I ACTUALLY LIKE. I DON'T KNOW WHERE, OR EVEN WHICH ONE, BUT THEY'RE LIKE, REALLY FUCKING FAR AWAY.]**

Magnus closed his book and willed it back to his library. One of his brothers was still alive, and a loyalist at that? He'd been under the impression they were all dead or missing. Frankly he didn't really care. He didn't like many of his brothers anyway. The one he truly called brother had disappeared before Horus rebelled. The story they were told was that he had been killed by a Warboss similar to the Beast while fighting off a WAAAGH!.

Magnus didn't believe it one bit. Galavor was never one to fight unless he was certain the odds were in his favour. Such was the gift of divination. No, the 11th Primarch left for his own purposes, he was sure of it. When thinking of it, he felt sadness, then the bitterness of betrayal. He'd abandoned the Imperium, the Emperor. Him. While his wayward brother was off in the galaxy for reasons unknown, Prospero burned. _Their_ home burned.

Should Galavor return, or should he take it upon himself to find his brother, he would be certain to confront his father's doppelgänger.

''I must cut this short father. I have some… research to do.'' Magnus said with a clipped tone. The thudding, metallic steps of Magnus' departure grew more distant as he left. Soon only silence remained within the throne room.

 **[I FEEL LIKE SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN. LIKE SOME KIND OF ZANY ADVENTURE WITH SERIOUS OVERTONES BUT A REALLY LIGHT HEARTED CORE. A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE STILL GOING TO DIE THOUGH. THESE THOUGHTS ARE OMINOUSLY SPECIFIC.]**

 **And done. Been a while since I updated this, but hey, it's here. Review, follow, fav, all that good stuff and I'll see you later. I'm not even gonna promise an update soon since I'm really inconsistent with updates. BrutalAftershock out.**


	4. Fate's Lens

The Strange Life Of A Forgotten Primarch

Chapter 3: Fate's Lens

First Captain Baphomus' footfalls thumped loudly in comparison to the near silent steps of Caerys as they strode swiftly out of Ghreivan's Gate. His armour stood out amidst the expanse of black, red, and bone coloured structures. The ceramite plates that made up the main armour were a shining, pearly white. The armour was so well maintained that not a scratch, blemish, or chip could be found on the paint. The pauldrons of the armour were violet, with gold accents. His armour carried much iconography, though not the religious sort that modern Astartes armour sported. Many arcane markings, scrolls, tomes, and artefacts were attached to the belt, and hung off of the shoulder pads. The Legion icon upon his left pauldron was a white skull with the lower jaw opened. A wide crack ran down the middle of the top of the skull. Three lightning bolts were at both sides and above the skull.

The entryway to the rest of Ulthwe was loud and busy with returning Eldar soldiers, all greeting their friends and loved ones, expressing their relief to return. Baphomus looked at each of them, perfectly able to see each and every emotion on their faces. It reminded him how human they looked. Despite the differences of their inner workings, the things the Imperium spat in their propaganda were simply wrong. They felt emotion much more intensely than humans did. He himself was certain he couldn't feel even a fraction of what they did being an Astartes. If anything, he'd say an Astartes was further from human than an Eldar.

His mind was occupied by such thoughts, while the low hum and whirring of his armour's servos and actuators were the sounds he was tuned into. He would sometimes reflect on the simple facts of his situation. Where he was and who he was amongst. 10,000 years ago he would be mercilessly slaughtering any alien enemy of mankind. However, he was hesitant to draw his weapons and powers against most sentient Xenos. Not for any particular like of them, but because his edge had been dulled amongst the Eldar. However, Biel-Tan was an Eldar Craftworld he would gladly fight as they would show him no mercy.

It had been a point of contention amongst his brothers, but he couldn't let himself be seen as weak or sympathetic. The Eldar were allies yes, but to call them friends? He wasn't certain. They may have raised his Primarch and released him to the Emperor, but they were duplicitous. Could he really count on them to not sink a knife into his back? He'd thought on this for millennia, and still he had no answer.

And then there was his Gene-Father's involvement with Farseer Caerys. The two were intimate, which made him deeply unsettled. It wasn't just a biological issue, but he felt Galavor's loyalties could be swayed by her. Many of the other Primarchs felt the same way. His Primarch brothers, save Magnus, had their suspicions of him. Galavor and Russ had come to blows several times, their relationship being the most hostile of any of the Emperor's gene-sons. Even as time went on, the Emperor himself became somewhat suspicious of the his 11th son.

''Awfully quiet, Captain.'' Caerys said, noting his prolonged silence. He'd learned that she never said such things as mere observations. He swore she was always observing the thoughts of those around her, perhaps for so long it had become a passive reflex to do so. He kept his mind guarded whenever she was near, something he had advised his brothers to do also. He didn't want her probing and reading him at her leisure.

''Nothing to say Farseer.'' he replied curtly.

''Hmm. I doubt that.'' she said ambiguously. Baphomus bristled but remained silent. ''I've no idea why you remain so guarded here Captain. Honestly, after 10,000 years you still can't settle. How long are you going to be suspecting us of turning on you and your men?''

''For as long as you stay the same.'' Baphomus said, his tone scathing. ''I've not forgotten how you operate. Finding the cause of a path of fate and changing it isn't the problem. The things you do are. I've seen countless humans and Astartes die in your quests to change fate, and frankly, I'm waiting for the day we become your next target.''

Caerys for her part remained composed despite the sudden stab of anger she felt from his words. Not only during the Kaurava System Campaign, but across 10 millennia, innumerable Guardsmen and Astartes had indeed been killed for the survival of the Eldar. He would do the same, of that she had no doubt. He was a hypocrite, though he would never admit it. She allowed them to have sanctuary aboard Ulthwe as a gesture of faith and love for Galavor, with Eldrad's blessing no less, and he had the gall to still suspect her of future treachery. He must have known she expected the same of him and his fellow Mon-keigh.

''Now is not the time for discussions of treachery, _Captain_.'' she said pointedly, her voice nearly a hiss. She removed her war mask with a thought, the psychoactive Wraithbone disengaged from the armour around her jaw and chin with a hiss of air pressure. She delicately took the mask from her face and let the light of the Craftworld interior cast itself naturally upon her skin. Her face was one of many forms of perfection found amongst the Eldar. A black rune was printed upon her forehead which contrasted sharply with the paleness of her skin.

''Now, if you're quite done,'' she said rounding sharply on Baphomus, ''I believe you should return to your men. I believe you will want to prepare them for whatever we find.'' The old Astartes grunted non-committally. He parted ways with the Farseer without a word and made his way through the winding corridors and open vistas of the Craftworld's interior.

He'd long familiarised himself with the passages that led to hab-blocks, museums, places of culture, and various other locations of significance to the Eldar. Despite himself, his musings led him to find he much preferred the orderly and spacious interior of the Craftworld to the dark, cramped, and quite barren halls of Imperium vessels. Everywhere he walked he felt tense. He couldn't remember the last time he'd truly relaxed in any way. The Eldar were always planning, and often cared little for allies in their quest for survival. How much could their mutual links to Galavor justify their alliance before their conflicting interests dissolve any peace they had made?

Baphomus entered the improvised base of operations he and his men had established and found his fellow Astartes. Above him in the centre of the room was a circular opening with artificial light streaming in, the light beaming into the middle of the floor. Wraithbone constructs curled and arched gracefully about the room acting as supports and decorative struts. Glowing ovular gems were embedded within them along their lengths and glowed with the strange power flowing through them from the ships Infinity Circuit. Ancient crates of bolter rounds sat unopened, now used as seats for the denizens of the base. One of his brothers, a Librarian, or Arcanist as known within the 11th Legion, Prime Archanist Griogoris Malmanon, stood with his back turned and knelt in silence.

Malmanon's Terminator Armour was just as spotless as Baphomus' own, an irritating reminder of their retreat from all of the galaxy's affairs. The Arcanist's armour whirred and clicked as he stood and turned to greet Baphomus.

''I'll just say it Captain. The Farseer has called for another scrying hasn't she?'' he asked.

''Read my mind again Malmanon?'' Baphomus replied, garnering a small chuckle from Malmanon.

''No, no. No need. Your face says it all.'' the Archanist said.

''Infuriating creature. Ten millennia and I still can't stand her.'' Baphomus growled. Malmanon sighed and shook his head. The bionic ocular implant in place of his right eye focused its beady red aperture upon the First Captain.

''I understand. But you cannot deny it is through her we're even able to hold a stable footing in the galaxy. We must try to remain grateful.'' he said in an attempt to placate the irate Captain. His own issues with the Eldar were something he'd put aside for the sake of continuing the stable existence of the Mind Breakers, at least until Galavor returned. Since he disappeared, Baphomus' less than ideal methods of diplomacy coupled with his distrust of the Eldar had soured his relationship with their alien hosts.

Malmanon understood and believed his suspicion to have a genuine basis, as the Eldar were a volatile ally at the best of times. One moment you're a united force, the next you have a shuriken round in the back of your skull.

''But for how long? How long can we let them hold this over our heads? '' Baphomus hissed, his normally stony features set into a vicious scowl.

''For as long as Galavor wills it,'' Malmanon said, ''And for as long as he wills it, I will comply.'' Baphomus cast the Arcanist a flinty look, though Malmanon paid it no heed.

''Oh, please, even he will eventually stop being a scapegoat. They know we're here because we'll follow him no matter what. And he's their most powerful asset. We're being used, Malmanon.''

It was the Arcanist's turn to scowl. ''You forget yourself and your place First Captain!'' he snapped, ''We owe a great deal to the Eldar here. They have not displayed any sign of betraying us or Galavor, whom I might add, saved this Craftworld several times. He has great importance here. Betraying us would damn them.'' he released a frustrated sight and frowned.

''Now, was there something you had to report to us Captain?'' he asked curtly. Baphomus huffed, his scowl not abating.

''We're scrying for our Primarch's location. Now that Caerys has returned from the Kaurava campaign, we will have a better chance of pinpointing him.'' Baphomus explained. Malmanon nodded.

''I'll inform the others then.'' he replied.

* * *

The _Eldritch Truth_ _,_ a Gloriana class battleship long thought lost to the void sat docked underneath the immense hull of Ulthwe. It served as the main command centre and residence for the remnants of the Mind Breaker's Legion. It was a magnificent edifice of human design and engineering reflective of a golden era in human history. Its hull, a mosaic of laser batteries, missile pods, and torpedo silos, was arranged beautifully on both sides of the ship, with a complimentary colour scheme of white, purple, and gold. It bore the iconography of the Legion on one side of the ship, and the 'XI' numerals on the other.

It was amongst Galavor's most prized possessions. Malmanon boarded the vessel via the docking platforms that lined up with the large bulkhead doors on the sides if the ship. Upon entering, he was met with his brothers going about their business, forgoing their power armour in favour of robes. They had to take care of maintenance themselves since their servitors and serfs had long since ceased functioning and died respectively. The hallways of the _Mind's Eyes_ were less cramped than those of other Imperial ship classes, and so were a more welcome sight to the Arcanist.

The matter of Baphomus' distrust towards the Eldar had been a long running issue that had been a point of contention amongst the Mind Breakers. While they trusted Galavor's judgement, many of them had experienced the repercussions of Eldar actions. The things the Eldar did in order to preserve their race would send ripples throughout the galaxy in many unforeseen ways, often leading to the deaths of many, no matter how indirect the original action was.

For his own part, Malmanon held little animosity towards them. They had spared their Primarch's life and raised him. Without them, who would have led them? The Emperor wouldn't have, not directly. He knew that the Legion had to undoubtedly be grateful to the Eldar, but whether it was the mental conditioning of the Astartes, or the bitter truth of Eldar duplicity, trusting them did not come easily or at all to many of the Mind Breakers.

He made his way through the ship, never having to check maps on the walls as to not get lost within the labyrinthine innards of the vessel. Eventually he reached the lower decks, where the armoury and reliquary were located as a joint facility. The vast majority of his brothers; company captains, Archanists, and Sergeants were gathered, using the two large chambers as a social space. Chatter and laughter met his ears as he entered the chamber. Though besides the chatter, the vox-casters in the armoury were relaying what seemed to be a vox-publicae hosted by the Emperor and his Custodians. He was sceptical about its authenticity though.

Most of the company captains had amassed near a large stone plinth with a glass case framed with metal. Inside the tube under bright, reverent lighting was the perfectly preserved set of Artificer Armour once worn by Galavor himself. Next to its right leg on a stand of its own, was a weapon, a mix of sword and spear. A long, wide blade, with gems along the flat half the blade's length. The handle of the weapon was only slightly longer than the blade. Worn, quilted hide clung to its length, with rings of gold separating the handle into three sections. At the end was a gemmed pommel: a red stone which sparkled unnaturally, set into a ring of gold. The adamintine weapon was as unbreakable as it was ancient.

The armour bore the Legion's colours; white, purple, and gold. The shoulder plates were small compared to that of regular Astartes shoulder pads, and inverted arches, the wing-like protrusions that often adorned the backs of Farseers, stretched upwards from the backs of the shoulder plates. Unlike many suits of power armour, it was not bulky or cumbersome; near form fitting and elegant. The war plate's primary bulk came from the mechanisms within the armour. The gorget guarding the neck had a red gem in it, which also had an unnatural sparkle to it. The armour's composition was unique in its construction as it was made of Ceramite, Auramite, and Wraithbone.

''Brothers! Brothers, if I could have your attention!'' Malmanon called, his voice scratchy and loud through his vox speaker. His fellow Astartes stopped speaking and looked to him, all awaiting his words. They knew no one announced anything unless if was of utmost importance, especially coming from either Baphomus or Malmanon.

''First Captain Baphomus, and Farseer Caerys have returned from Kaurava III. They believe they now have the power necessary to scry for our Primarch's location.'' he announced, his brothers showing little in the way of a reaction.

''You know, we'd be excited or perhaps even interested if this wasn't the...what, Emperor knows how many times it's been. Any actual news this time, Malmanon?'' asked the captain of the 5th company, Brymand Veir. He was a giant of an Astartes, as tall as a brother in Terminator plate. Malmanon knew his brothers were tired of false flags. He couldn't blame them. He too wanted to know what became of their Primarch, but they had been stationary for ten millennia, so what was a year?

''Well, Farseer Caerys claims to feel Galavor's presence, though she cannot quite locate him. So, hopefully this scrying session will shine some light upon where our Primarch has gone.'' Malmanon explained. The gathered Captains and Sergeants looked between each other, trading curious glances.

''So we have some actual progress then. You think she'll actually find him?'' Brymand's Sergeant, Eulus Ulkaius asked. He didn't have the stature of Captain Veir, but he had a presence about him that made such stature unnecessary.

''We can only hope so.'' Malmanon replied, unsure of her chances of success.

* * *

The night was still; barely a rustle of leaves or the sounds of animals. Galavor watched. He'd found Count Mott's estate; roughly an hour south of the academy. His hawk-like gaze surveyed unblinkingly as he observed the subject of his one man siege. He waited silently, shrouding his presence from the minds of anyone who would look upon his position. He would be a blank space in their cognition, visible yet invisible. People in dark, hooded robes entered the property, each stopping at the guards to the entrance before being allowed through. His eyes narrowed. They were unmistakably cultists, and so Siesta was in great danger. He though on the information Saito gave him before leaving for the estate, and he was doubtful Siesta was the only girl Mott had requested in however long he'd lived there.

The Primarch focused on maintaining his cognitive illusion and moved with caution past the guards. Upon entering through the front door, the doors slammed shut and all light was snuffed out with the candles lining the walls being put out. There was no wind nor draft. Galavor was almost surprised as he hadn't quite expected to be sensed quite so soon. He questioned himself then, wondering if his psychic wounds were keeping him from properly using his powers and keeping his presence masked.

The weight of Chaos' corruption within this place was great. Whatever was happening within the walls of Mott's estate was something dark and depraved. He could feels Slaanesh's taint within the very timber. His grip upon Thirst's End tightened, the purple glow around the spear head flared for a moment before returning to its dull luminescence. Its quiet hum was the only sound filling the dark hallway.

He walked forward, relying on his mind to sweep the winding corridors that branched off from his path. He could feel the pull of the Warp below him. Far, far below. He passed several doors until he heard thumping through the door at the end of the hall. It was rhythmic and loud, with a primal beat. His eyes narrowed once more and he willed the door open. He looked through the doorway and a flight of stairs greeted him. ''There's a nightclub down there.'' he sighed placing a hand to his face. ''It's Slaanesh, of course there is.'' he grumbled.

He reached a large door at the bottom of the staircase. The thumping of the music in the room beyond was one he could feel in his chest. He psychically pushed the door open and stepped inside. Around him was a swirl of activity as dancers, both human and Daemon, performed their art to the music as entertainment for what he guessed were Mott's guests. No one seemed to pay him any mind.

The room itself was various shades of pink and purple, with lights of the same colour emanating from unknown sources from around the room. Chatter, laughter, and the clinking of drinking glasses was just about audible over the rhythmic thuds of the music. The music suddenly cut out and someone cleared their throat loudly. Galavor turned and saw who he assumed was Count Mott, sat upon a luxurious throne with multiple scantily clad young women and Daemonettes sat at the foot of the throne.

''She said you would come.'' Mott said smugly. ''I am Count Mott. The pleasure is all mine.'' he introduced. ''So, I believe I already know why you're here…er, gallivant was it?''

''I'm not going to correct you. There's no point.'' Galavor pointed Thirst's End at Mott. The Daemonettes around him and at the throne flinched upon seeing the spear head's glow intensify. He didn't have time to humour the cult leader. He needed to get to Siesta.

''Now, now, Gabe Newel or whatever your name was, let's just take the valve and turn the steam pressure of this situation right the way down. You want the maid girl, yes?''

Galavor scowled. ''Firstly; that was the biggest reach for a reference I've ever seen. Secondly; yes.''

''Right. Well, you're more than welcome to try and get her. Though, I think Slaanesh may disagree with your course of action.'' he stood from his throne and took his staff from beside the arm of the throne.

Galavor raised an eyebrow at the human cultist and slightly lowered Thirst's End. ''You've no chance against me. Whatever blessings you have received from Slaanesh will not be enough to match me. You should reconsider. Slaanesh's greatest have fallen to me, mortal.''

''What? Who said I'd be fighting you? I know all about how powerful you are. I'm gonna bounce on outta here and let them fight you.'' he whistled and the Daemonnetes pounced. The guests immediately shot up from their seats and revealed weapons such as daggers and clubs.

A pair of fierce pincers just missed the back of Galavor's head as a Daemonette clung onto the Primarch's back. She snapped her lethal claws, aiming for his throat. Galavor seized her by the head and ripped her away from his back and over his shoulder. He threw her across the chamber and she slammed into the wall with her bones turning to powder. He swung Thirst's End in a fierce arc and cut down several of the Neverborn in one blow.

The human cultists attacked in frantic mobs and were easily dispatched as the Primach used his psychic might to make the cultists implode as their spines gave way, their organs liquefied, and their ribs caved in.

He cut, slashed and pummelled his way through a score of Daemonettes; their claws and pincers all finding little purchase in his flesh and barely scratched his armour. They were cut to pieces and torn asunder by his psychic might as he unleashed an Eldritch Storm upon them. The confines of the room kept the Daemons in an inescapable chamber of lightning that banished them to the Warp.

He looked past the throne and saw a large pair of black doors. He knew Mott had fled through those doors, and with a blast of psychic force, the doors were torn from their hinges and flung into the darkness ahead. Galavor charged ahead with inhuman speed in pursuit of the Count.

For as little time as he had known Siesta, the young maid had grown on him rather quickly. Her genuine smiles were a rarity in the galaxy, and she was overall just a pleasant person to be around. He was more worried than he thought he'd ought to be. The horrors that the Chaos Gods and the corrupting powers of Chaos could unleash on a mortal were things he'd never wish on anyone. That Siesta was at risk of being subject to them gnawed at him deeply.

He soon found himself in a far darker place than before. Blood, old as well as fresh, trailed the flagstones, creating crimson rivers in the cracks. The place was dully lit by torches on the walls. The walls were also lined with old chains, rusted with age and crusted with blood. Siesta must have been here.

Galavor carried on forward and saw cells on either side of the long hallway ahead of him. They were mostly empty save for old, incomplete skeletons, while some had rotting, stinking corpses still shackled to the walls and floors. A gunshot rang out from in front of him, and whatever ammunition was used was deflected harmlessly off of his shoulder plate. A swarm of deranged Slaaneshi cultists came rushing at him wielding swords, daggers, pistols, and other less standard forms of weaponry.

Galavor had needed to shrink down since entering the estate, reducing his height to just under seven feet, slightly shorter than a standard Astartes. Galavor didn't have the reach advantage he would at his full height, but against such meagre resistance it didn't matter. With no hesitation, he skewered a cultist with his spear and lifted his squirming form over his head while he struck out with his left fist and obliterated the skull of another with a quick punch.

He threw the speared cultist into the mob, knocking several of them over. He swept the spear's blade through their bodies, slaughtering a good number of them. With a dagger raised above his head, another deranged man stabbed at Galavor. The Primarch's preternatural speed easily allowed him to swiftly kick the cultist in the chest before the dagger could reach him. The man's chest was caved in and his organs were pulped as he was launched down the hallway.

Galavor never broke stride as blades and bullets glanced off of his armour and he cut through one cultist after another. He had discerned that the guns they were using were some primitive form of pistol, and the ammunition was simple balls of lead. He deemed them of little threat to him.

''The ritual must be enacted! We must please Slaanesh!''

''Kill the child of the Anathema!''

''His flesh will please the Prince!''

''The shaft of his spear will make an excellent stripper pole!''

Galavor scowled. He had no time to waste on maddened, pitiful little men. Mechanically precise movements as he dashed through their ranks reduced the cultists to bloody chunks clogging the passage. Crimson fluid splattered the ground and walls and the turbulent breeze caused by Galavor's rapid movements and powerful swings had blackened the hallway as the torches were snuffed out.

He had heard the transcript of one of Curze's missions. The compliance of planet 8540. The circumstances under which he found himself butchered the cultists in the darkness reminded him of what he had heard the Night Haunter had done upon the Piameni ship called _Storm's Rock_. Men butchered in darkness.

Galavor was almost certain he was nearing the end of the hallway as he could see a faint pink light in the distance. The light was low to the ground, suggesting a door up ahead.

''Who's there?'' came a voice to his left. He turned and created a psy-flame in his palm, illuminating the area around him. Before him was a cell full of women dressed in rags. The face of one of them was close to the bars. She was stern of face, with white hair, and fiery blue eyes. She was well muscled from what he could see. She had a small, black fleur-de-lis tattooed under her left eye. Galavor had heard of an order of women that the Imperium's Ecclesiarchy had employed during the 36th millennium. They typically had white hair, and were represented by the fleur-de-lis. The Adepta Sororitas, as they were known in modern times.

She saw Galavor's face and her eyes widened. ''By the Emperor...''

''Do you recognise me?'' the Primarch asked. She was uncertain of how to answer.

''You look like the God Emperor. But how? Could you be...'' she suddenly bared her teeth and her eyes flashed ''Are you some kind of imposter?'' she didn't wait for a reply as she gripped the bars violently ''Heretic!''

Galavor rolled his eyes and sighed. ''Calm yourself. I am not surprised you would not know of me.'' he stood proudly ''I am Galavor. The 11th son of the Emperor of Mankind. The forgotten Primarch.''

She hesitated for several heartbeats. ''In all of the visual material I have seen of our Emperor, no other has bore his likeness. But you do. If you are indeed telling the truth, then perhaps you can prove it.'' In truth, he didn't feel like a Daemon to her. But Warp predators were insidious creatures, so she would not let her guard down.

''Perhaps.'' he replied. He looked at the other women in the cell. They looked so much meeker than the Battle Sister. They shied away from his gaze and some hid behind each other.

''Beatrice, who is that?'' one of the women asked timidly.

''Either a great help or a great danger.'' she replied without taking her eyes off of Galavor ''Which is it?''

''Do you have any equipment?'' he asked. Beatrice frowned.

''No. The bastards took all of my gear. I remember being on a ship making a Warp jump and suddenly I'm here.''

''Ah. Warp fuckery.''

''Warp fuckery indeed.''

''I will free you on the condition that you can actually escape. It is clear that those women look up to you, so if I free you, can you lead them and yourself out of here?'' he questioned sternly. He wasn't about to have another link to the humanity he knew and the innocents with her killed because he made a bad decision.

''I can do better. I can help you kill that bastard Mott.'' she smirked. ''He brought another girl here just a few hours ago. Bypassed all of us. Even had her being his personal maid.''

''I came here to retrieve her.'' Beatrice raised an eyebrow.

''Oh? If you are a Primarch, why would a single human life concern you over the entire Imperium?'' her tone was biting.

''We are not in Imperium space now. I have not been a part of that corpse of an empire for 10,000 years. I care little for it as it stands.''

''Then you have abandoned humanity!'' she seethed. Galavor shook his head.

''I will discuss this with you later. For now, I have a pawn of Slaanesh to slay, and a friend to save. The Tristain academy is not long north of here.'' he broke the lock with a jab of his spear and opened the cell door with a wave of his hand. ''There are weapons further back. Arm yourselves and do what you must.'' he strode past the cell and carried on down the hallway.

Beatrice stared after him furiously. One of the Emperor's sons had abandoned them. That was if he wasn't lying. She was going to go with him, if for nothing else but to kill him herself if he was foolish enough to wear the Emperor's face so brazenly.

''Beatrice?'' a young woman asked from the back of the cell.

''Grab any weapons you can and leave. If you have somewhere to go, then go. If not… well you'll figure something out.'' she looked at them and gave them a small, reserved smile. ''You're stronger than you think. Get out of here... and live.''

* * *

Beatrice watched the girls go after they had armed themselves and prayed to the Emperor for their safety. They were like her in a way. They had lost everything and everyone. They had nowhere to go. She was grateful that she had been able to teach them the basics of the Imperial Cult and the edicts of the Emperor. They learned eagerly, and promised to practice once they escaped. Seeing Galavor may have served to further convince some of the more sceptical amongst them. She made the sign of the aquilla across her chest and took a sword from the cold hand of a dead cultist. She cringed as she grasped it and spat on the corpse.

She didn't need the sword to kill these pathetic cultists. She had killed two of them with her bare hands when she woke up before arriving at her cell. Mott had apparently found it rather arousing and kept her around to serve in a future ritual. Once she had her war gear back, she was going to kill Mott herself for all he had done in Slaanesh's blasphemous name.

She searched the halls for several minutes before finding a storage room. Inside were various items that she would rather not talk about or remember, but amongst them she found her power armour and helmet, chainsword, but not her bolt pistol. Mott was both curious and foolish in that he discarded things he didn't immediately understand. She couldn't decide whether it was arrogance or foolishness. Arrogance in that if he didn't understand something, it didn't deserve his understanding. Foolishness in being rid of powerful assets once he had them.

It took some time and some prayer to the machine spirit of her armour, she soon donned her power armour after several tedious and challenging minutes of putting it on without mechanical assistance. However, she had been taking it off and putting it back on for so long, it was a lot easier for her than it used to be. She checked her purity seals and they were all firmly attached and the blessed parchment was no more torn than it already was.

She brushed some of the dirt and dust from her helmet and rubbed the eye lenses with her thumbs, then placed it over her head. The HUD showed limited tactical and environmental readouts. It wasn't as advanced or as integrated with her body as an Astartes pattern helmet would be for one of her augmented comrades. The auto-sensors made up for the lack of tactical information she was getting. The darkness of the hallway was no longer an issue as the full-spectrum filtering system within the lenses made the lightless passage as bright as day to her.

Suddenly, she rumbling, and then the crashing of rubble on stone as the place shook around her. She was late for battle as Galavor had seemingly already engaged whatever Warp scum Mott had summoned. She revved her chainsword ran as fast her power-armoured legs would carry her towards the battle between a demigod and a Daemon.

* * *

 **Minutes before**

''Shit, shit, shit!'' Mott cursed as he hurriedly made his way to the very depths of his manor's undercroft. When he'd heard Slaanesh's whispers of this so called Primarch, he hadn't expected someone who butchered Daemons and slaughtered cultists like he did it in his sleep. The ritual he had his most devout cultists overseeing was very close to completion. To have it ruined now would destroy everything he had worked for.

He ordered more cultists to swarm Galavor, if nothing more than to buy him a few more seconds. He got to the main chamber to see a Warp rift open up in the middle of the large chamber where his most devout cultists chanted, and where Siesta was being held. The plan Mott had to please Slaanesh was to take a beautiful girl and subject her to a week of torture. However, he planned to make a spectacle of it. His cult would watch initially, but would be invited to join in the torment. Of course the use of a plethora of concoctions would be used during this time. Somewhere, a Dark Eldar Archon laughed at an utterly _adorable_ idea.

The Warp rift suddenly expanded and four figures emerged from it. They were nothing like Mott had ever seen.

''Ah, well it seems like it worked. Someone made getting here really easy.'' one of them said.

''Mmmm, I smell depravity.''

''Nurgle's love has not reached this place.''

''ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH! KILL! MAIM! BURN!'' the crimson armoured giant began running around, wildly swinging his giant chainaxe at Mott's cultists. The one in the pink armour started drinking out of the large brass jugs full of the hallucinogenic, psychoactive barbiturate cocktails Mott was going to use.

''Ahzek you simply _must_ try this. Might help you unwind.'' the pink one said. His voice was high-pitched and a clear irritation to Ahzek.

''No Lucius. I neither want nor need whatever you're drinking. If there's anything Magnus taught me; just say no.''

''Indeed. Such mind altering, nerve numbing chemicals will deny the full effects of Nurgle's gifts.'' Typhus, the Herald of Nurgle said.

''What about you Kharn?''

''* _Mouth-frothing for the Blood God_ *.''Kharn looked at Lucius with his neck twitching and his body shaking violently. A severed head flew and bounced off of Lucius' face in reply.

''What he said.'' said Ahzek.

Mott gulped, but had the nerve to speak. ''The fuck?''

The four giants looked at him. Mott wasn't sure which one he felt the most uncomfortable being looked at by. Kharn looked like he wanted to wear Mott as a meat coat. Ahzek looked like was reading a human shaped book. Lucious looked like he wanted to do unspeakable Slaaneshi things to him. And Typhus looked like he wanted to hug him. How he could tell when most of them wore helmets he didn't know.

''Oh. Apologies for the intrusion, but would you happen to know where we are?'' Ahzek asked.

''My basement.'' Mott replied.

''And the planet?'' Mott looked confused.

''Planet?''

''Yes, the ball of dirt you inhabit.'' Ahzek pressed sounding irritated.

Before Mott could answer, the top half of a cultist came flying in from the entrance to the chamber and landed by the Count's feet with a fleshy thud. Dread filled the Count as Galavor stepped through the doorway's threshold and immediately grew to his full height, towering over both Mott and the four Champions of Chaos.

''Ooooooh shiiiiiit~'' Ahzek droned as he looked upon the furious face of the Forgotten Primarch.

''You have something I want, little man.'' Galavor growled as he glared down at Mott. The Count was sweating bullets as the Primarch ignored the Chaos Champions and focused solely on him. He stood less than a foot away and stared directly down on him. ''Where is she, mortal?''

''By the Prince, is that Galavor?'' Lucius called gleefully. Galavor tore his gaze from Mott and looked at the Eternal Champion of Slaanesh, then back to Mott.

''You summoned Chaos Champions? Is that it?'' he said flatly.

''I HAVE A CHAINAXE CHAINED TO MY ARM!'' roared Kharn ''A CHAIN-CHAINAXE!''

''By my bubonic ball sack it is. Warmest greetings to you Primarch Galavor. It has been far too long. Do you serve Chaos too?'' Typhus questioned with a friendly tone befitting one of Nurgle's chosen.

''I will annihilate every single one of you once I'm done with this.'' he replied harshly.

''I will take that as a definite no.'' Typhus said.

''Well, we didn't come unprepared, though we are surprised to be greeted by a Primarch of all things.'' Ahzek said coolly. He whistled loudly, and a few moments later, the rumbling started. The Warp rift grew even larger, and a metallic, clawed hand reached out, with metal tendrils feeling their way out of the rift. A huge head, plated in armour and with large, blade-like teeth emerged.

''I thought I'd bring one of Honsou's Mauler Fiends.'' Ahzek said smugly.

''But why though?'' Lucius asked.

''Because… I…uh… just as planned, haha!'' Ahzek's recovery was less than stellar.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, Honsou's empty Mauler Fiend kennel**

*IRON WARRIOR IRON YELLING*

''SHUT THE FUCK UP HONSOU!''

Perturabo did not like yelling. Iron didn't yell.

* * *

 **Craftworld Ulthwe, Scrying Chamber**

''Whoa, getting heavy amounts of Warp shenanigans!'' Taldeer said as she winced.

''Where?'' Caerys asked. She was getting increasingly desperate for any exact direction to Galavor's whereabouts.

''In the Webway of all places. In the direction of… Rebootia.''

''Rebootia? But all that's in Rebootia is… no, that place?''

''What are you talking about?'' Baphomus questioned in confusion.

''Allow me to explain.'' A figure emerged from the darkest corner in the room, drawing the eyes of all present. Farseer Eldrad Ulthran.

''Rebootia is the name we arbitrarily gave to this one little pocket dimension in the Webway. It used to be a place containing a world like ours, but more historical without automatic or semi-automatic weapons, or space ships, or Space Mari- no, no, they have those now.''

''So it's like our galaxy but everyone's a LARP nerd?'' Baphomus asked.

''Pretty much. It's a place with only one inhabited planet. One the Imperium would call a 'Feudal World'.''

Caerys leapt to her feet anxiously. ''You're saying we can get to Galavor directly then?

''Totally.'' Eldrad said.

''Then we'll mobilise immediately. If you can open a Webway portal large enough, my brothers and I can get the _Eldritch Truth_ through and into this planet's orbit. Then I can get the first and second companies on the ground, as well as any equipment our Primarch needs.'' Baphomus said, energy he hadn't felt in a while filled him. He felt hopeful. Hopeful that battle awaited them.

''ROAD TRIP! YEAAAH!'' both Tladeer and Caerys were very, very excited.

* * *

 **Imperial Palace, Terra**

Magnus felt the stirring in the Warp. His massive psychic ability made it relatively easy to locate where the ripples were coming from, and knew he needed to get into the Webway. However, he wouldn't be able to focus on getting there for a while with the Emperor and Dorn bickering again.

''I still do not see why you think Mega Blocks is superior to Lego. Lego is far more varied in its uses. Also, I can prove to you that Lego is far more sturdier than Mega Blocks. I will need my tools, and 50,000 labourers this time. I will recreate some of the defences I built during the Heresy in both block types, and hit them with the same armaments of the time.'' Dorn droned.

 **[ROGAL. MEGA BLOCKS HAS THE WORD 'MEGA' IN IT. A MEGA BOLTER IS MUCH BETTER THAN A BOLTER OR HEAVY BOLTER. AND BECAUSE I'M THE MOTHERFUCKING EMPEROR. I REST MY CASE.]**

Rogal grumbled to himself. ''Mega Blocks was no where near as successful in sales as Lego. Lego is demonstrably the better fortification building material.'' he replied. ''Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to fortify this position with the finest cardboard boxes on Terra. I will build the greatest box fort that I dare Perturabo to siege.''

 **[I FORGOT WHAT I WAS THINKING ABOUT BEFORE. MAGNUS, DADDY NEEDS YOU.]**

''Yes father? What is it?'' Magnus asked with a sigh.

 **[YOU HAVE FELT THE WARP BEING EXTRA TEMPERAMENTAL TODAY, HAVEN'T YOU?]**

''Yes. It seems there's been some psychic disturbances is the Webway. And it feels like Ahriman is up to something. But weirdly enough, it feels like he's very close to where we felt Galavor's presence.''

 **[IT'S REALLY NOT AS WEIRD AS YOU THINK. THAT BITTER MANCHILD OF YOURS HAS MADE IT TO WHEREVER ELF BOY IS. I'M GUESSING YOU ALREADY INTENDED TO GO THERE.]**

''Pretty much.''

 **[GOOD. THEN GO, AND TAKE SOME OF THE ULTRASMURFS WITH YOU. THIS SITUATION CALLS FOR SOME OF THAT PLOTINITE ARMOUR THEY'RE WEARING NOWADAYS.]**

''Do I have to?'' Magnus whined.

 **[FINE. TAKE THAT GLITTERY GOLDEN NUGGET AND THE STRIPSTODES WITH YOU AS WELL.]**

''I'm not sure if that's to make things better or worse. I don't mind Kitten coming but the others are just… eugh.'' he shivered in disgust.

 **[JUST SHUT UP AND DO AS I SAY.]**

''Ugh, fine. But how exactly to you suppose I even get into the Webway from here?''

 **[GO GATHER THE OTHERS. LEAVE THE HARD PART TO ME.]**

* * *

 **Well, that's another. Sorry about updates being so slow, and it's not likely to get any quicker since got University preparations to do and other personal stuff. Review, fav, follow, all that good stuff.**


End file.
